I didn't grow up with money. I come from a family of public servants. My mom taught kindergarten and later became president of the National Humane Society. My dad was a police officer who went on to become chief of police. After they divorced, I was one of the statistics. I had two remarkable parents and a front-row seat to how a household stretches what it has. Those humble beginnings shaped me. I worked hard to build a life, a career, and the ability to stand on my own. But professional success didn't protect me from becoming a mother who couldn't get the help her child needed.

When my autistic son was taken by someone I once trusted, I found myself fighting to bring him home and navigating a system that too often failed to hear us. I knew the law. I knew how to advocate. And there were still moments when I felt powerless.

But that isn't where our story ends.

Our legislators and the sheriff's department helped my family when we needed it most. People listened. They took action. And the system I had struggled within ultimately helped protect my children and bring us to safety.

I carry both experiences with me: the heartbreak of being failed and the gratitude of being protected. Both shaped the public servant I want to be.

I believe in what government can do because I've lived what happens when it works. I also know why we must keep working to make it better.

Behind every unanswered call is someone trying to hold their life together. I know, because I was that someone.

That's why I didn't wait for a title. I drafted Niko's Law, and I'm working to get it through Tallahassee now.

I know how to move things forward—and I know what it costs families when nothing moves.

Read Niko's story See the Cucumber Index