Welcome to the Justice 4 Everleigh Grace blog. This series documents a personal and critical examination of child welfare systems, foster care placement decisions, and the real-world impact these processes have on children and families. It combines lived experience with broader reflection on accountability, due process, and the gaps that often exist between policy and practice.
The purpose of this blog is to make complex and often hidden parts of the system more understandable, and to create space for awareness, dialogue, and reform. Each post builds on the last, moving through different stages of experience, observation, and reflection.
To make this information more accessible, an AI-generated audio summary of Alexis Landrum’s blog series is available. It provides an overview of the key themes addressed throughout the series
To make this information more accessible, an AI-generated audio summary of Alexis Landrum’s blog series is available. It provides an overview of the key themes addressed throughout the series
My daughter, Everleigh Grace, entered this world in January 2024. Before she ever took her first steps, before she could speak a single word for herself, decisions were made that would separate her from her biological family and place her entirely in the hands of strangers.
First smiles.
What I didn’t realize was that I was documenting something much larger.
The parent who never experiences hardship, addiction, trauma, poverty, grief, mental health challenges, or failure. The parent who always says the right thing, does the right thing, and somehow navigates every obstacle without stumbling.
There is a quiet rule people learn early: be agreeable, be polite, don’t make anyone uncomfortable. Ask once, maybe twice, but never enough times that your concern becomes inconvenient. Never press too hard. Never question the people in charge. Never make yourself hard to manage.
For me, it was realizing that doing everything I was told to do — reporting concerns, speaking up, asking questions — would not protect my child. It would make me a target.
No calls.
I am expected to forgive people who don’t want to be forgiven.People who ripped me apart from the inside out and then told me to stop being a victim.
To make this information more accessible, an AI-generated audio summary of Alexis Landrum’s blog series is available. It provides an overview of the key themes addressed throughout the series
This series began by examining structure — law, oversight, procedure, and policy.
Court Appointed Special Advocates (CASA) are presented as one of the strongest safeguards in child welfare cases.
In child welfare cases, it is meant to ensure decisions are made to protect children—not institutions, not convenience, and not assumptions.
To make this information more accessible, an AI-generated audio summary of Alexis Landrum’s blog series is available. It provides an overview of the key themes addressed throughout the series
Parents involved in CPS cases are often told the system is designed to help them succeed. In reality, many of us learn the hard way that the system teaches one thing and punishes another—especially when substance use is involved.
Part 1 of 2:
This is the part of Everleigh’s story that rarely makes it into court orders or case notes—the part that happened to me after I refused to stay silent. When I questioned decisions that didn’t make sense, I was told to stop asking. When I asked for documentation, I was treated as difficult. When I raised concerns about Everleigh’s placement and safety, the response was not investigation—it was pressure. Visits became limited instead of increased. Information stopped flowing. I was told to “wait” while my child became more inaccessible. The message was clear: compliance mattered more than clarity. As I continued to speak up, the narrative shifted away from Everleigh and onto me. My emotional responses to separation and fear were reframed as instability. My insistence on transparency was labeled conflict.
Nobody tells you what it’s like to grieve a child who is still alive. To carry a weight that has no funeral, no closure, no moment to cry openly in front of the world. They exist, breathing somewhere, but not with you. Not in your arms. Not in your home. And that absence… it steals your breath.
“the system exists to protect children at all costs.”
If you’re reading this alone — physically or emotionally — please know this first: there is nothing wrong with you. Being alone during the holidays doesn’t mean you failed. It means life changed, and you’re still here, figuring out how to stand in it. This is not a guide to “making it magical.” This is a guide to making it through.
Justice isn’t just a word—it’s a promise to protect children when they need it most. At Justice 4 Everleigh Grace, our mission is simple but urgent: to raise our voices, ask for help, and ensure that every child is safe, seen, and heard.