In The Beginning
God created our perfect bouncing baby boy, our happy little bundle of joy, the apple of our eye, Keenan. We couldn’t have been happier and things couldn’t have been better. But eventually Amy, Keenan’s mom, became involved with drugs (see our next post for more details on that) and got into some trouble in the St. Louis/Illinois area.
I went to the Illinois prosecutor and asked him to help me get her into treatment. I knew that deep down she was a good mom, and that Keenan needed her. He vowed to give Amy a chance to turn her life around and get the help she needed and wanted.
Tragically, just three weeks after entering the Gateway Rehabilitation Facility, Amy became ill and was forced to leave treatment. She tried to stay clean, but with her illness and the lack of medical help, she seemed to sink deeper into addiction. She would stay clean for a few weeks and then relapse.
Eventually, I decided to follow my dream of being near the ocean, and we moved to Gulf Breeze, Florida. I kept in touch with Amy and encouraged her continued efforts at staying clean. She managed to stay clean for a few months and wanted to try to put our family back together. After much soul-searching, many long talks, and promises to stay clean, I finally agreed to let her come to Florida.
She stayed clean for about five months and things couldn’t have been better. Keenan was happy and healthy and we were getting our family back together. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to me, when Amy went home for a few weeks to visit family in St. Louis, she relapsed. When she got back and I figured it out, things between us were rough, and needless to say, we had some family problems.
My primary concern was to keep Keenan in a safe, stable, and loving environment. He was never left alone with Amy or in any danger when she relapsed. But with all the family problems we were having, the police got involved, and through them DCF (aka Destruction of Children and Families) got wind that Keenan’s mom was a drug addict and decided that we couldn’t have any contact with her — despite the fact that she was trying to get well and had already checked into a drug rehab program.
As a result, Keenan’s mom was immediately and completely ripped out of our lives and thrown out in the streets to die.
Well, as anyone who has had the displeasure of dealing with DCF knows, once they get involved in your family affairs, they don’t get out anytime soon. Soon we were attending this hearing and that hearing in an attempt to keep our family together.
One day, Keenan and I went to court for what I thought was just another routine hearing. It was at that time that the true emotional destruction of my son began.
Keenan and I made our way into the courtroom and found a seat. My happy, babbling little boy sat quietly by my side when suddenly he noticed his mom sitting in the jury section in shackles. Instantly, my happy, babbling, perfect son was totally shattered. He sat at my side staring in disbelief at the sight of his mother as he had never seen her — in shackles.
She needed medical help and family support, not shackles.
I tried to put my arms around him to comfort him, but he pulled away. That was the first time my six-year-old son ever refused my love or comforting touch. From that moment on, my son has never been the same.
We were forbidden by DCF to have any contact with his mom — no phone contact, no visitation, nothing. My son’s last early memory of his mother was destined to be of her in shackles.
From that day on, my son’s behavior made a complete 180. He started having nightmares, wetting the bed, and suffering emotional breakdowns in elementary school. At times he was reduced to a crying, inconsolable wreck. During the breakdowns, he would curl up into a ball and grieve the loss of his mother.
The school couldn’t understand the reason behind the behavior or what triggered it. I’m still not sure what triggers it, but I have never doubted that the reason is separation anxiety and a deep yearning for the love only a mom can give. Don’t get me wrong — I’m his dad and I do my best — but we all know the differences between the type of love a mom and a dad provide.
The school soon asked my permission to secretly tape some of his emotional breakdowns in an effort to better understand them and perhaps help him. I agreed. The video of one such episode was characterized by Keenan’s psychologist as very disturbing. But more on that later. As I get things on the site organized, I hope to have some of that video and others uploaded for you to see.
Soon after seeing his mom in shackles, Keenan also started committing small crimes. When asked about those crimes, he told a member of his church:
“If I go to jail, I’ll get to see my mom. I just want to see her and talk to her. I just want to know she’s alright.”
When Keenan was just nine, he was with another boy playing in the neighborhood when that child jumped on a motorbike sitting in a driveway and took off. Keenan tried to keep up on foot but couldn’t. Being younger and unsure what to do, he grabbed a bicycle along the way, jumped on it, and took off after the boy so he wouldn’t be left alone.
That day began the relentless and malicious prosecution of my son as a felony criminal at age nine.
I will explain more in time about how this all played out, but for now I’ll stop here. Please check back frequently for updates, as this site is still under construction.
Thank you for your continued support.
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