My eight-year-old son was curled on the living room floor, fighting for breath after his twelve-year-old cousin be:at him hard enough to crack a rib. When I reached for my phone to call 911, my mother ripped it out of my hand and told me not to ruin my nephew’s future

Without my money to cover the exorbitant legal fees, Carla couldn’t afford to hire the high-end, aggressive defense attorney she desperately wanted for Ryan. She was forced to use a public defender. Given Ryan’s complete lack of remorse, the severity of the medical records, and his own confession to the police on Thanksgiving night, the juvenile court judge did not show leniency.

Ryan wasn’t sent to a detention center, but he was placed on strict juvenile probation for two years. He was mandated by the court to attend intense, weekly anger management therapy, which Carla had to pay for out of pocket. Without my tuition money, he was permanently expelled from the private sports academy. He was forced to enroll in the local public middle school, where his bullying tactics were quickly shut down by older, tougher kids.

The “glorious athletic future” my mother was so desperate to protect was entirely, legally, and financially obliterated.