My one-year-old boy wanted to stay with his dad, and I worked night and day shifts. I packed his bag with clothes and his favorite lion stuffed toy, buckled him in, and drove to meet him.
I saw his dad with his girlfriend, which was strange. Making this part complete broke me. We usually meet at a nearby gym. I ignored it and moved forward. I hugged and kissed my baby, reminding him how much Mommy loved him. That moment became our final goodbye.
That evening, I got a call from JA’Kari’s aunt in Alabama asking if she could keep him for the 4th of July since he was “already there.” I was shocked that he was supposed to be in Bowling Green, Kentucky, not Alabama. His father had taken him to another state without my permission. We argued over the phone, and then I agreed to let him enjoy his holidays with his family. I didn’t want to ruin his holidays.
That weekend, I cried constantly because I had him in my life. I missed him so much that I even went to the doctor because I felt physically ill. I texted and called his aunt daily for pictures and video chats, but she stopped allowing calls because he got upset about missing me. By July 4th, the messages grew short and wired. Something was happening there, and something was wrong there.
On Saturday, July 5th, I texted asking if my baby was okay. I got a call, “Tara, you need to come to the country.” I asked her why, but she refused to tell me what happened. I begged for answers, but no one would say to me. She sent me the hospital address. I was so worried, thinking all the time about what happened there.
I started asking doctors if my son was there because I was thinking something bad about my son, and then the doctor told me no one from the family had contacted me. Then, he said your son, JA’Kari, died at 1:00 p.m. I was panicking. I was so broken after listening that I couldn’t stand it.
My baby was no more with me. Just 15 months old.
The stories did not match. One relative mentioned that all the kids were playing outside, and JA’Kari went lost. The aunt said she stepped out for a second. A first responder said JA’Kari was found inside, soaking wet but strangely with dry hair. He had drowned in a pool; he could not have entered on his own; he was too small to climb the stairs.
No one was ready to tell me what happened there, why my son died. I was crying; I just left him in the wrong hands. That part of life was the most broken. I never imagined that he would die in the pool and no one would come to help him. He was just a 15-month boy. He was looking for help that someone would save him, but no one came to save my son’s life.
This story is not about my kid’s incident or how he died. I want justice for my son, so help me to find the truth about what happened, how he died, and if that was a plan. Now, I am asking for help, legal, investigative, or otherwise. My son, JA’Kari, deserves justice. He deserves more than silence. Please, help me find the truth.
