Aid Barrett's Family: Overcoming Injustice and Debt

Christmas used to be my favorite holiday. Now, it's a painful reminder—one that triggers the symptoms of PTSD I never imagined I'd have to live with.

The holiday season had been magical. We were celebrating with our three newest family members—our five-month-old triplets—and introducing them to extended family for the first time.

But everything changed at 7 PM on Christmas night. One of our triplets, our only son, Barrett, suddenly had a seizure while sitting in his infant swing. His arms stiffened and his eyes rolled back. We panicked. I called 911 while my husband, Wade, called my mother-in-law. She rushed over and arrived at the same time as EMS.

EMS did a full check and eventually cleared Barrett, noting that he was ‘interactive and appropriate’ with normal oxygen saturation, but something didn’t sit right with us. Just to be safe, we drove him to our local ER.

A head CT scan revealed subdural hematomas on Barrett’s left side, some chronic, ranging in age from months to days. The ER physician immediately asked about Barrett’s premature birth and NICU stay. He was shocked and told us that the NICU should have caught this. We were terrified—but also cautiously hopeful. Barrett had always been a fussy baby with frequent projectile vomiting—even back in the NICU—so we thought maybe we were finally going to get answers.

Barrett was transferred to another hospital, the same hospital where he’d been born at and had his NICU stay. There, retinal hemorrhaging was discovered, but only in his left eye, just like the hematomas which were only on the left side. When we asked the ophthalmologist what could cause that, she looked my husband in the eye and said one chilling word: ‘shaking.’

At first, we weren’t too worried. Surely they’d dig deeper and find the real medical reason. We were a loving family. Our triplets had three older siblings, our oldest being 16 years old, and we’d never had a single prior issue. Why would we suddenly start hurting our children now—especially our miracle boy?

Then came the battery of tests: abdominal ultrasounds, skeletal surveys, an MRI. But no one would explain the results. We didn’t even know tests were coming until they wheeled Barrett out of his room. A kind nurse told us to follow him to MRI and that we’d need to sign forms for anesthesia. But they intubated and sedated him without our consent—or any signed forms.

That’s when we realized—they weren’t looking for a diagnosis. They were building a case for abuse.

CPS showed up and placed us on a ‘temporary safety plan.’ We were told that an approved supervisor would remain in our home while the investigation proceeded. We later found out through Barrett’s medical records that a member of the child abuse pediatrician’s team wasn't satisfied with CPS’s approach. She went over their heads, contacting RAMS (Regional Abuse & Medical Specialists - social workers who provide consultations for CPS), the Department of Health and Human Services, and law enforcement. Even though Barrett was medically cleared for release on December 27th, she refused to discharge him until all six of our children were removed from our custody.

On December 29th, my mom and two aunts brought our older kids to the hospital to visit. We took them out to lunch and a playground nearby. As we walked back into the hospital, DSS called. They were taking custody of all six children—immediately.

My husband and I stood there, holding our children and sobbing. Telling our six-year-old that she couldn’t come home with us, that she had to stay with her great-aunt ‘for a little while,’ was the most heartbreaking thing I’ve ever done.

We went home that night to a silent, empty house. What once overflowed with life now echoed with absence. Valentine's Day, Mother's Day, Father's Day—all passed in that same emptiness. Eleven long, agonizing months followed.

But we didn’t give up.

We secured full medical records before they could block us from accessing them. Two weeks before the triplets were born, a prenatal ultrasound had shown excess fluid and a swollen ventricle in the LEFT side of Barrett’s brain. In addition, NICU records showed they suspected hemorrhages—yet no one told us.

We consulted three independent medical experts. All three diagnosed Barrett with BESSI (Benign Enlargement of Subarachnoid Spaces in Infants), noting that he was at higher risk for BESSI and subdural hematomas due to his prematurity and being a triplet. It explained everything—the rapid head growth (from the 73rd to the 98th percentile), and the projectile vomiting and breathing problems we had voiced concerns about to his pediatrician.

All the signs of a medical condition were there, but no one would listen. Barrett had no bruising, no skull fractures or any other fractures. The MRI of his entire spine including his neck was normal, no signs of trauma.

Wade and I were arrested—charged with Class B2 felony intentional child abuse and conspiracy. A charge equal in severity to attempted murder. $200,000 secured bond each. The bond restriction was, ‘No contact with the victim.’ A judge, seeing our willingness to cooperate, thankfully removed all bond restrictions and unsecured the bond.

That member of the child abuse pediatrician’s team, however, was relentless. She diagnosed Barrett with abuse. Then, absurdly, diagnosed our other five children with neglect—because we had ‘allowed’ Barrett to be injured. Since when did medical diagnoses include legal accusations? DSS substantiated abuse—solely on that one medical professional’s word. We recorded the meeting. DSS admitted they found no evidence of abuse.

Nearly 11 months later, once our experts’ reports were submitted, criminal charges were dropped. But DSS wouldn’t back down.

Eventually, a deal was negotiated: we would plead to neglect without admitting fault. We signed a statement acknowledging the judge might find evidence of neglect, though we did not agree that we were neglectful. Our names remained clear—no registry, no criminal record. Our three oldest children came home just before Thanksgiving.

But the damage was already done.

Our then three-year-old developed severe depression. She couldn’t eat, except for strawberries. She spent her days in bed watching Peppa Pig, her smile a rare and precious thing. Our now eight-year-old became terrified of doctors and hospitals. To her, those places meant losing her family.

We finally accepted the deal, heavily advised by all four of our attorneys. They warned us: even with overwhelming evidence, the judge would likely side with DSS. The state was fighting for abuse, but willing to settle for neglect.

We endured monthly check-ins and a forensic psychological evaluation—by the state’s chosen psychologist. During our first meeting, she told us (on record) that she didn’t even understand why she was there. Our case clearly stemmed from a medical issue, not maltreatment and her report stated just that. She noted I suffered from understandable PTSD—both from seeing my son lifeless and from losing custody after seeking medical help. She described our family as the strongest she’d seen in 14 years. Even the DSS attorney admitted he had never seen such glowing evaluations.

And finally, on April 2, 2025, we won. Our children were home.

While we're relieved, the trauma lingers. Our children still carry the scars. We’re drowning in $72,000 of debt, money we had planned to use to build an addition for the triplets. Instead, we’re stuck in a too-small home, with no compensation, no apology, no justice.

We sleep with heavy hearts knowing that families—just like ours—are still going through this nightmare.

And no one is listening.

Thank you so much for reading our story, we truly hope to stop these catastrophes from happening and will do anything to help.”

#parentsbehindthepinwheels #fracturedfamilies