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Help us end CPS corruption, kidnapping, & family destruction
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$25,637 raised of
581 donations
My name is Farzin Yazdani.
I’m a U.S. Navy veteran, businessman, engineer, and father raising my family in Sterling, Loudoun County, Virginia—the community where I grew up and still call home.
On April 3, 2025, our family lived through something no parent should ever have to experience.
Loudoun County DFS/CPS came for our children with law enforcement behind them.
They took both of our daughters.
One of them was our newborn baby girl, Roxana.
She was only weeks old.
She was breastfeeding.
Emily had just given birth to her.
And suddenly her baby was gone.
There is no polite way to describe what that does to a mother.
Emily’s body was still producing milk for our daughter. She was supposed to be holding her, feeding her, comforting her, sleeping beside her, learning every little sound she made.
Instead, she was separated from her baby and forced to ask a government agency for permission just to see her daughters and get breast milk to her newborn.
The very next day, that is exactly what she was doing.
Begging to see her own children. Begging for a way to feed her own baby.
Her breast milk eventually dried up.
That is not something you undo.
You do not get those first weeks back.
You do not recreate the feedings.
You do not recreate the bonding.
You do not erase the terror of not knowing when you will hold your own newborn again.
And you do not tell a mother later that everything is fine because the child eventually came home.
The harm already happened.
And the hardest part is this: there was another way.
The day before they took our children, DFS came to our home with law enforcement seeking a welfare check.
I refused a police-backed entry into our house.
But about 25 minutes after they left, I called the CPS worker back.
I told her she could come back that same night, without police, and visually check our baby Roxana herself.
According to DFS’s own records, she spoke with her supervisor and county counsel.
They declined.
They chose not to come back.
The next day they went to court and said there was no less-drastic alternative to removing the children.
That is one of the central reasons we are fighting.
We did not tell CPS they could never see our baby.
We offered them another way.
A peaceful way.
A same-day way.
A way that did not require surrounding a family with armed government power and taking children out of their home.
They said no.
Then they came for our kids.
We were scared out of our minds.
This was not some paperwork dispute.
This was our family.
Our children.
Our home.
Armed law enforcement was there.
We knew what would happen if we physically resisted.
Emily was also confronted with the threat that she could be jailed for “abducting” her own children if she did not surrender them.
Imagine being a mother in that position.
Your children are being taken from you.
Your newborn still needs your milk.
Every instinct in your body is screaming to protect your babies.
And at the same time, you are being made to understand that if you do not hand them over, you may be the one treated like a criminal.
That fear stays with you.
The helplessness stays with you.
The image of strangers taking your children stays with you.
But people helped us fight.
And this is important.
The people who supported us did not just donate toward some future civil-rights lawsuit.
Their help already made a difference.
It helped us get lawyers.
It helped us get into court.
It helped us withstand the pressure.
It helped us keep fighting when the system seemed bigger, richer, stronger, and more powerful than we could ever be.
And most importantly:
It helped us get our children home.
That matters more than anything.
At the April 7 hearing, after DFS presented its evidence concerning continued removal, the court granted a motion to strike and ordered Melanie returned to her mother.
We kept fighting.
And we got our kids back.
If you donated to us before, shared our story, prayed for us, called us, helped us find legal help, or simply stood beside us when we were terrified:
you were part of getting our children home.
That is not symbolic.
That is real.
But getting them home did not make the battle disappear.
Then came the fight to keep them home.
The hearings.
The lawyers.
The appeals.
The allegations.
The records.
The missed work.
The endless calls and emails.
The fear that one wrong move could bring the whole machine back down on our family again.
We had to learn how to survive the onslaught.
We had to keep paying lawyers.
We had to keep responding.
We had to keep showing up.
We had to preserve everything.
We had to fight a system funded with taxpayer dollars while trying to keep our own family financially and emotionally alive.
And while we kept fighting, we kept finding things that made us ask even more questions.
During an administrative appeal, CPS acknowledged that part of the operative record used against us had not been provided to us.
The matter was sent back for reconsideration.
The Level 1 mental-abuse/neglect finding involving my son Jordan was later changed to:
UNFOUNDED.
Shortly afterward, DFS served a motion to nonsuit its circuit-court appeal.
That does not erase what happened.
It makes us ask an even more basic question:
How many families get destroyed before anyone is forced to answer for the decisions that were made?
Then we tried to get our own records.
We asked for the CPS records about our own family and our own children.
Loudoun DFS denied the request, citing statutory exemptions and saying releasing the records was not in the children’s best interests.
Think about that.
A government agency can investigate your home.
Interview your children.
Write reports about you.
Use those reports in court.
Take your children.
And then make you fight to see the complete record behind what they did.
So we fought that too.
Because we are done disappearing quietly.
We built the evidence.
I have spent countless hours organizing approximately 1,600 pages of Bates-numbered records.
Court orders.
Emails.
Agency records.
Police records.
Hearing material.
Investigative records.
Appeal records.
Chronology.
Evidence.
We built it so this cannot be dismissed as just another angry parent yelling at the government.
We can point to the documents.
We can point to the dates.
We can point to what was said.
We can point to what changed.
We can point to what still needs to be discovered.
We are preparing for the civil-rights litigation that is coming.
But this campaign is not just about one lawsuit.
It never was.
This money is for our legal battles.
The battles that helped us get our children back.
The battles that helped us keep them.
The battles we are fighting now.
The battles still ahead.
The lawyers.
The court appearances.
The appeals.
The records.
The experts.
The discovery.
The civil-rights case.
And every lawful step necessary to protect our family and hold people accountable.
We are not putting some artificial dollar amount on that.
We are not asking you to fund one motion or one lawyer or one case number.
We are asking you to help our family keep the legal strength to fight back.
That is what your support has done.
That is what it is doing.
And that is what it will continue to do.
We are still here.
There were days we were exhausted.
Days we were scared.
Days the bills seemed impossible.
Days we wondered how much more our family could absorb.
But then I look at Emily.
I remember what she looked like without her baby.
I remember her trying to get breast milk to Roxana.
I remember the fear in our house.
I remember what it felt like watching the power of government descend on our family.
And I know why we cannot stop.
At first, we were fighting for our children.
Now it is bigger than that.
We started asking:
How many mothers have been through this?
How many fathers ran out of money before they could fight back?
How many families lost their children because they could not afford another attorney?
How many people were too scared to challenge the system?
How many children were torn away from families because everyone involved was afraid to question the agency?
That is why we are still fighting.
We got our children home. Now we fight for your kids too.
We fight to make a system respect families.
We fight to make it actually protect children.
We fight for a system that helps families before it destroys them.
A system that looks for the truth before making accusations.
A system that uses removal only when it is truly necessary.
A system where protecting a child does not automatically mean ripping that child away from everyone they love.
A system where parents have rights.
A system where children have rights.
A system where government workers are accountable for the power they exercise.
A system where taxpayer money is used to protect families, not bury them in proceedings they cannot afford to survive.
We are not fighting to destroy child protection.
We are fighting to make child protection actually mean protecting children.
Because ripping a child away from a loving family is not protection unless there is a real, lawful, necessary reason to do it.
And when mistakes are made—when rights are violated, when evidence is mishandled, when power is abused—there has to be accountability.
Otherwise nothing changes.
If you helped us before, you helped bring our children home.
And we will never forget it.
Now we are asking you to stay with us.
Not just for Emily.
Not just for Roxana.
Not just for Melanie.
Not just for Jordan.
Not just for me.
For the next family.
For the mother who may be sitting in her house right now terrified that someone is going to take her baby.
For the father who thinks he cannot fight city hall.
For the child who deserves protection without being unnecessarily ripped away from the people who love them.
If you can donate, please help us continue our legal fight.
If you cannot donate, share this.
Watch and share our story:
Tell people what happened.
Ask questions.
Demand transparency.
Demand due process.
Demand a system worthy of the children it claims to protect.
We got our children home. Now we fight for your kids too.
We fight to make this system respect and actually protect children and families instead of ripping them apart.
Thank you for standing with us.
Farzin Yazdani
U.S. Navy Veteran
Engineer · Business Owner · Father
Organizer
