This is part 1 of a 3 part series.
My alarm hasn’t even gone off and I’m greeted by the most adorable 8 year-old in an oversized t-shirt and his dirty red Crocs. Red Crocs have been Luke’s signature footwear since he was five. When they’re on, we’re going somewhere. I barely have a chance to open my eyes before I feel my glasses being shoved on my face. He grabs my hand with one hand, holding a slice of cold Red Baron Pepperoni pizza in the other, and off we go. Luke loves being outside. Usually we stop on the porch and wave at all the cars, but today he goes straight to his happy place–the swing set.
I watch as the joy washes over his face as he goes back and forth, back and forth. Eyes closed, smiling into the sun, not a worry in the world. He’s so happy. It’s hard to believe that just a year and a half ago, he was a completely different child. Fearful, anxious, aggressive, and no appetite.
As a mom who homeschools our kids, I know it is the best decision we’ve ever made for our family, but the catalyst for our decision is messy and sad. For the past year and a half, Ryan and I have kept the full story to ourselves as we navigated difficult emotions, spent hours compiling evidence and meeting with multiple attorneys. Despite being asked time and time again why we suddenly began homeschooling our kids, we held back the complete and total truth. That is, until now.
The fact is that our son Luke, who is autistic and nonverbal, was abused and denied a Free Appropriate Public Education (FAPE) at Central Elementary. A school that our family loved and where many teachers and staff loved us. The same school where I worked until I started to uncover the truth. So why did we wait until now to come forward? Since Luke couldn’t tell us what happened, we have had to discover each heartbreaking layer ourselves.
Despite three different attorneys telling us that we have a strong case, special education is a niche area of law and suing government agencies is difficult, expensive, and can take years to obtain a verdict. It’s devastating to think that we may never see justice and that the adults responsible might not be held accountable. But I still believe that good can come from this, including sharing our story.
It is my hope that sharing Luke’s story will:
- Give a voice to my son and other nonverbal children;
- Raise awareness about special needs child abuse in school systems;
- Encourage other special needs parents to come forward and share their stories;
- Advocate for change, beginning with mandatory reporting to DCBS, not to School Resource Officers as it presents a conflict of interest;
- Encourage lawmakers to require cameras with sound in all classrooms where there are nonverbal children at minimum;
- Attract attorneys who specialize in IDEA law so that victims in rural areas have access to proper representation.
I affirm that the information that I am sharing with you is correct and true to the best of my knowledge. In Kentucky, public schools are subject to the Open Records Act, which grants residents the right to inspect public records unless they fall under a specific legal exemption. I’ve attached public records within this post to substantiate my claims. I encourage anyone who wants to dig deeper to submit a records request here.
A little background
This story is about our youngest son, Luke. He attended Central Elementary School in Mayfield, Kentucky which is in the Graves County School District. His preschool experience there was wonderful. I couldn’t have asked for better teachers, and I was confident that his transition to the moderate to severe disabilities (MSD) self-contained classroom would go well.
Halfway into Luke’s kindergarten year, I became a special education instructional assistant for a different special education teacher at Central. I loved the kids that I worked with, I had some great co-workers, and I loved being close to my kids. I thought at the time that Luke’s kindergarten year went well. It was when he started first grade that I realized things weren’t what they seemed.
Abuse
On September 26, 2023, Luke’s special education teacher Justin Cunningham and an assistant witnessed another assistant grabbing Luke by his arms and shaking him. Cunningham and the second witness said that the incident did not happen in the heat of the moment; approximately 10 minutes had gone by between when he pinched her and when she shook him. He was calm and sitting quietly on a chair when it happened. (Pinching in nonverbal children is common because they lack the verbal skills to express needs or feelings like frustration or overwhelm.)
Both Cunningham and the second witness later told me that it was Rebecca Thomason, and that Luke wasn’t the only child abused that day. After shaking Luke, she spanked another child, also nonverbal, for climbing on a table. Cunningham said that he reported the incident to the principal, Keri Cornwell. Even though I was working just a few doors down, I had no idea what had happened to Luke.
The calls that blindsided me
I picked up Luke from his class at the end of the day like normal and no one said a word about the incident. After being home about an hour, I received 2 calls. The first call was Cunningham, who told me what happened to Luke, even though he admitted he wasn’t supposed to tell me. As the words came out of his mouth, I remember feeling shocked, angry, sad, and numb. I thought about how terrified and confused Luke must have felt. How sad he must have been. Did anyone comfort him? Why didn’t anyone come get me? Thoughts swirled in my head but I couldn’t get many words out.
A few minutes after talking to Cunningham, I got a call from the Director of Special Education (DOSE) Carmen Robertson. “There’s been an incident involving your son and a staff member today. Human Resources Director Amy Turner is investigating the incident and once the investigation is complete, she will call you with the details. I can’t tell you anything before then.” That was it.
All I could do was check Luke’s body for marks and bruises and just hope that mentally and emotionally he was ok. We contacted our first attorney who advised us not to return to school until the investigation was complete. I texted that information to Principal Cornwell. The following day, Turner called and told me almost verbatim what Cunningham had already said. She told me that “the employee will not be anywhere near your child.” I asked if she had been fired or would still be at school and she said “I can’t share details about employment but she will not be near your son.”
That was it. What does “near” mean? Was she still working in the district or worse, still at the school? Turner’s comments left me with more questions than answers and left Ryan and I with a lot of anxiety, fear and frustration.
I never found out if she was terminated or allowed to resign, but when Luke and I returned to school, she wasn’t there. With the investigation complete, Thomason gone, and Luke’s arms not showing marks or bruises, we went back to school.
The abuse was never reported to DCBS
I really believed the people I trusted were going to do the right thing for Luke and the other child. We had protocols for these things. At the time, even I was a mandatory reporter, all school staff members are. If we even suspected that one of our students was being abused, we had to report it immediately to the Department of Community Based Services, the agency who handled child protective services. It never entered my mind that Principal Cornwell didn’t file a report with DCBS. The entire time, I also assumed that the reason HR Director Turner did the investigation in the first place was to turn it over to Child Protective Services. We didn’t find out until almost a year later that it was never reported to DCBS.
Sadly what I’ve learned is that this is not uncommon. Chris and Lindsey May’s nonverbal son Caleb was abused by an instructional aide in November 2024 in nearby Lyon County. Not only was DCBS not contacted, but the aide was only reprimanded after the incident. Their child had to go back to school and see the person who hurt him every single day.
Too little too late
Fast forward to September 2024, nearly one year after Luke was shaken and 7 months after we withdrew him from Central Elementary. The dust was starting to settle from everything that happened with Luke. Ryan and I finally had enough distance from all of the events of his first grade year to start going through documents and piecing things together. We combed through every piece of paper in Luke’s records that the school sent us. There was a lot missing, including a DCBS report.
On September 3, 2024, nearly a year after the abuse happened, Ryan called and learned it had never been reported, so we opened a case with DCBS (Intake #3908438) and consulted our second attorney.
It felt simple to me. I had phone records from when Cunningham, Robertson and Turner called me. I had detailed notes from conversations with them and the other witness. I documented everything, including which administrators I knew were involved. HR DID AN ENTIRE INVESTIGATION. It seemed so obvious that even though a year had passed, DCBS would be able to substantiate the abuse.
I also filed a complaint with the Kentucky Department of Special Education (IDEA Complaint #2425-C-08) shortly after we contacted DCBS. There was a one-year statute of limitations to file a complaint so I knew we were cutting it close, but I had to at least try. That complaint went nowhere. By the time I got a response, it was too close to the deadline to gather the information and respond.
On December 23, 2024, two days before Christmas, we received the letter in the mail that our DCBS claim was unsubstantiated–too much time had passed. I tore open the letter at the mailbox, read those words, and cried all the way back to the house. Before, only one adult had failed Luke. Now, at least twelve had failed him. I felt betrayed. I felt angry. I felt crazy. My heart was broken for Luke. We learned that personnel files are considered confidential and don’t have to be turned over voluntarily to DCBS. But then I got to the front door and saw Luke standing there waiting for me, smiling ear to ear. No, we didn’t get hope or the truth that day. But my happy, smart, busy Luke was safe and sound. I pulled myself together and filed the letter away with everything else.
Code of Silence
This wasn’t the first abuse incident at Central Elementary that year. In April 2023, another special needs child was abused by a different instructional assistant. After the incident, HR Director Turner and DOSE Robertson held a meeting with the special education department. We were told that there was an incident involving a staff member and a student. Turner told us that if we already knew about it, we were not allowed to talk to anyone about it; not our co-workers, spouses, friends, no one. She said we were bound by confidentiality as outlined in the employee handbook and that sharing about the incident would open ourselves and the district up to a lawsuit. She said not only could we be fired, but our personal phones and other personal devices could be subpoenaed, all of our emails and texts could be used against us and we could be called to testify in court. A mandatory meeting was held the next day for the entire staff. Turner repeated to the rest of the staff what she told the special education team. The message was clear: No one was allowed to say anything to anyone.
The year got worse for Luke
Before I worked at Central Elementary, I relied on the kids to tell me about their day like every parent does. With Luke, I trusted what his teacher told me. I had no reason not to believe what I was told and no real way to know any different. Little did I know that the abuse incident would unveil a series of events that happened to Luke at school that we wouldn’t wish upon any parent. These events and my search for the truth ultimately led to my termination from the school district. I’ll be sharing those details and documents in Part 2.