October 20, 2025

For months, I tried to solve this quietly. I kept showing up to meetings, writing letters, and telling myself that if I stayed calm and factual, someone would finally listen. I believed that documentation and decency still counted for something. But silence doesn’t protect your child. It protects the people who hurt them.

So I stopped being quiet.

This week, I filed a thirty-page formal complaint with the BC College of Social Workers about the conduct of the social worker who has been managing my son’s case. It’s dense, full of emails, clinical notes, and timelines — because that’s what it takes to prove what we’ve been living through. You have to translate heartbreak into evidence.

Living the Aftermath

Bennett is six. He’s autistic, medically complex, and the bravest person I’ve ever met. Since the Ministry of Children and Family Development (MCFD) removed him from my care while admitted to BC Children’s Hospital on August 28, 2025, my world has been carved in half — before and after.

Before: I was his safe place. His routines, his laughter, his regulation.

After: I’m the woman begging for permission to bring him a watch he picked out himself.

Every day, I wake up in a house that’s too quiet. His clothes still smell like him. His drawings are taped to the fridge, frozen in time — the last pieces of a world that MCFD dismantled under the label of “protection.”

He’s now surrounded by strangers, rotating staff, and an education setting that overwhelms him. His therapy has stopped. His G-tube care has been inconsistent. His body tells the story of it all — new bruises, raw granulation tissue, dark bags under his eyes, confusion, and exhaustion.

The social worker in charge made choices that fractured our lives: cutting off contact, restricting FaceTime, ignoring medical reports, erasing advocates, and rewriting facts. Each decision was a cut — small enough to sound procedural on paper, deep enough to scar a child for life.

These aren’t mistakes. They’re betrayals.

The Weight of the Truth

I filed this complaint because I can’t let the record stand silent while my child’s pain is rewritten into bureaucratic language. I filed it because every professional who failed to intervene should have to see, in writing, what their silence cost.

It documents seven ethical principles violated: integrity, confidentiality, self-determination, collaboration, advocacy — all words that mean nothing when a child’s cries are filtered through red tape.

I want accountability — not apologies.

I want a full investigation into the conduct of this social worker.

I want Bennett back home.

I want policy change so no other medically complex child is forced through this same cruelty.

Why I’m Telling You This

Because I’m tired of families being silenced.

Because every document I obtain costs me a piece of my heart.

Because my son’s story deserves daylight, not secrecy.

Every word of that complaint is backed by evidence — not emotion. But this post is the emotion. This is what it feels like to wake up every day knowing your child is hurting while the system congratulates itself for “doing their job.”

They took my son.

They took his joy.

They took my peace.

But they will not take the truth.

Here it is.

#BringBennettHome  #AccountabilityNow  #MCFDBC  #BCChildWelfare  #DisabilityRights  #AutismAcceptance  #HumanRights  #UnSilenced  #ProtectDisabledChildren  #SystemicFailure  #TruthMatters  #FamilyJustice  #BCAdvocacy