Indian
Creek
School
There are moments when telling the truth doesn’t bring closure or protection. It brings consequences. That is the moment my family has been living in.
What started as speaking openly about our experience has turned into a long, grinding ordeal across agencies, courts, and appeals — an ordeal that has stretched through holidays, job loss, and months of procedural limbo. The public record now reflects something stark: not wrongdoing proven, but accusations unsupported by evidence, processes that stalled, and a family left without the protections that are supposed to prevent exactly this kind of collapse.
Across every forum we’ve been dragged through, one fact has never changed:
Not a single court or agency has found any statement we made to be false. Not one.
No filing has been struck. No affidavit has been discredited. No judge has issued a finding that our words — sworn or public — were untrue.
What we’ve faced instead are accusations. Assertions. Claims that criticism equals defamation, or that speaking publicly about our own experience is somehow misconduct.
But in law, disagreement is not defamation. And discomfort with speech does not make that speech unlawful.
The burden has always been on those making the accusations. That burden has never been met.
The part the public rarely sees is how much harm comes not from rulings, but from the absence of rulings.
In one venue, discovery disputes sat unresolved while major decisions were issued anyway. In another, motions simply went unanswered. In the workers’ compensation case, jurisdiction bounced between the Commission and the courts with no written order explaining who had authority to act.
The result was paralysis. Not denial on the merits — just nothing. No action. No clarity. No path forward.
This is not how due process is supposed to function.
Institutions can wait. Families cannot.
While agencies and courts delayed, we lived the consequences in real time:
The filings reflect what that meant: indigence, housing instability, the inability to travel to hearings, and the constant calculation of which bill could be skipped without losing everything.
Justice delayed is not neutral. Delay becomes pressure. Pressure becomes punishment.
As the holidays approached, there were no celebrations to plan — only survival math.
Rent. Food. Medical needs. Filing fees. Transcript costs. Whether to pay a bill or preserve an appeal. Whether to keep the lights on or keep the case alive.
These are the parts of the story that never appear in court orders, but they define the lived reality of families caught in procedural limbo.
The fundraiser supporting our family exists for one reason:
Telling the truth should not require financial ruin.
Support helps cover:
👉 GoFundMe: https://gofund.me/dadad50d6
This isn’t about winning a public relations battle. It’s about making it to the next hearing without collapsing under the weight of delay.
What’s happening to us is not unique. It’s a pattern many families recognize:
When institutions respond to criticism with accusation, when speech is chilled through exhaustion, when procedural irregularity leaves no forum willing to act,
the promise of due process becomes conditional.
That’s why this story matters. Not because it’s dramatic — but because it’s familiar.
Despite everything, we continue. We file. We respond. We appeal. We document. We speak.
Not because it’s easy. But because silence would mean surrendering something far more important than comfort: the truth.
When speaking the truth costs everything, community becomes the difference between collapse and endurance.
Supporting this fight is not charity. It is solidarity. It is a refusal to let accusation replace evidence. And it is a statement that justice delayed should not become justice denied.
Indian
Creek
School
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