HAYLEY | ARIZONA

“On the morning of November 12, 2017, we noticed our 4 month old son, Clayton, was experiencing some discomfort when we went to change his onesie. His arm was a little bit swollen, but had normal coloring and was not bruised or red. Being a CNA, I wasn’t sure that it was urgent enough to go to the ER, but it was a Sunday and his pediatrician wasn’t open so we decided to take him into the hospital just in case.

We were met there with immediate accusations. Before x-rays were even taken, a doctor said, ‘His arm is broken and one of you did it. I am calling the cops and DCS.’

During a full body exam at the hospital, we found out that Clayton had four rib fractures in various stages of healing, a fracture in his arm where it was swollen, and a fracture in his wrist. My husband and I were absolutely mortified and concerned for our son. Clayton had been seen by his pediatrician every single week of his life to that point for ‘failure to thrive’ and there had been absolutely no concerns from his pediatrician. How could we have not known he was hurt, and more importantly—how could his pediatrician not have seen something? And why was an x-ray the only testing done to figure out what was going on?

Within a few hours, a DCS worker arrived at the hospital, followed by a detective with the police department. They separated us to interrogate both of us individually. During my interview, the focus was completely on my husband. Every question had something to do with ‘do you think your husband could have hurt him?’ I was in shock because every single ‘no’ I gave was met with doubt and frustration. I had known my husband for ten years and both of us knew—we would never hurt our son.

After an hour of interviewing me, they swapped us out and went to interview my husband. They finally allowed me to sit out with my grandparents where I broke down and cried. Forty-five minutes later, the DCS investigator came out to speak with us. He laughed and said ‘your husband is being booked’ and told us he had admitted he hurt our son.

Both my grandparents and I knew there was a different story. It was not until my husband was able to call me from jail a week later that I understood what had happened. His first words to me were, ‘Are you and Clayton safe?’ During the interrogation, which thankfully was recorded, after 45 minutes of a detective yelling at him to man up—the officer said, ‘It is either you or your wife going to prison’ and ‘be a man and let your wife and son go home safe. If you don’t tell us you did it, we’re taking the kid.’ So my husband finally gave in, after breaking down in tears saying, ‘You are asking me to go to prison for something I did not do’, and then he said he did it. The officers asked him how he did it, and he said ‘I don’t know’ to which they told him what they thought he had done and asked him to repeat it. So he did. They made him believe that he could sacrifice himself in order to keep our son out of the system. But that did not happen.

Minutes after the DCS investigator came and talked to us, they made me say goodbye to our son. They took him from me and gave him to foster parents that came to the hospital to pick him up. I walked out of the hospital without my husband and without my son. I was devastated, broken, and sick to my stomach.

Over the next few months, we had countless court hearings. My husband spent two months in jail until my grandparents put their house up as collateral for bond so that we could fight for our son together.

During trial, a child abuse pediatrician testified to the fractures only happening by way that did not match the ‘confession’ details. The child abuse pediatrician also testified that two more fractures were found that occurred DURING foster care placement. We had an expert report stating that, after reviewing medical records, vitamin levels, and the x-rays, it was concluded that our son suffered from a medical condition: infantile rickets. Despite all of that, our parental rights were terminated. My husband was convicted of two counts of child abuse and sentenced to 12 years in the Arizona Department of Corrections.

After 11 months fighting to get custody, my parents were finally able to get placement for Clayton. And after all of our appeals failed, my parents were able to adopt him.

After my husband was convicted, I sold our home to pay for legal fees and I moved in with my parents so that I could live with Clayton. I had also found out I was expecting another baby a couple months before my husband’s trial so it was nice to be living with them to have the extra help with raising the boys.

A month after my husband’s criminal trial, I decided to go back to school to become an attorney so that I could bring him home, get justice for our son and our family, and justice for others like us. I received my associates degree in Paralegal Studies, bachelors in justice studies, and am now in my second year of law school where I am a student attorney for wrongful conviction cases.

Clayton is 6 years old now and we are still fighting. We recently discovered that both Clayton and I have Ehlers Danlos Syndrome so I petitioned the court for an evidentiary hearing. The first request for an evidentiary hearing was denied with the reasoning being that the child abuse expert had testified that Clayton did not have a genetic condition—without actually testing him or evaluating him at all. We have appealed to the Arizona Court of Appeals and are waiting for a decision.

The hospital, DCS, child abuse pediatrician, and law enforcement all jumped to a conclusion without trying to figure out what was actually wrong with our son. They saw unexplained fractures and immediately assumed abuse even with hundreds of reports and research studies showing that X-rays MUST be followed with more testing to determine if abuse occurred. But instead, they assumed abuse and stopped investigating. Our son was not a victim of child abuse. But he was made a victim by the system that took away his parents, put his father in prison, and he is now forced to live without his father who he loves dearly.

With every disappointment we have received during this battle, I still have hope. It is the one thing that keeps me fighting. It is the one thing that led me to law school and to the post conviction clinic. It is that tiny bit of hope for change that keeps me going. This tiny shred of hope I have is held in people like me—who want things to change and who are willing to put in the work for even the slightest chance that things could be different. Because where there are people willing to gather and fight to make a difference, there is always hope for change.”