For most of my life, I was the one people called. I was an attorney, a television host and legal anchor, and a mom who could juggle it all. I spent my entire career making people listen. I had never asked anyone for a handout.
Then my son Niko was illegally taken from me. Not by a stranger, but by someone I once trusted. And he was gone.
Niko lives with autism and Cornelia de Lange syndrome. He needs his routines, his care and his mom. I called everyone I could think of. I couldn't get help. I couldn't get anyone to listen. I was told it was "just a domestic." And here is the insanity of it: the more desperate I became, the less people listened.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. I missed Thanksgiving with him. I missed Christmas. I missed my birthday, and I watched the new year begin without my son. One hundred thirty-three days. Nobody believed me. Nobody was listening. For the first time in my life, I was helpless, and I was completely without hope.