14 Minutes: Why I Chose to Tell Our Story

This month, I will release a new book, “14 Minutes: A Call to End Restraint & Seclusion.” Our title comes from the harrowing amount of time my 11-year-old son was secluded and physically pinned down on the floor by two adult men. 

For fourteen minutes, he cried out. For fourteen minutes, he was held and bruised, his body restrained by force. For fourteen minutes, he fought not just against the weight of adults far stronger than him, but against fear, confusion, and betrayal. 

I was not in the room with him—but I live with those fourteen minutes every single day. I’ve heard his cries when I sleep, and I’ve seen the aftermath in his eyes. I knew our story could not end there. 

14 Minutes was born out of that moment—not just as a book about my son, but as a voice for every child who has been silenced, restrained, or secluded in the name of “safety.” It is a memoir, yes, but also a call to action: to expose the data that cannot be ignored, to amplify the stories too often hidden, and to show that better solutions are possible. 

In 1999, thirteen year old Jonathan Carey died after being improperly restrained in a New York facility, which lead to “Jonathan’s Law” and stricter reporting requirements. In 2009, the U.S. Government Accountability Office presented Congress with hundreds of documented cases of children being injured or killed during restraint or seclusion, many of them with disabilities. Still, no national ban was passed. 

The Bigger Picture: Seclusion and Restraint in Our Schools, Clinics, and Centers 

What happened to my son was not an isolated event. Across the nation, children with disabilities and black and brown children are disproportionately subjected to restraint and seclusion. The practice is often described as a “last resort,” but the numbers tell another story. 

• Nationwide, students with disabilities represent about 13% of the total student population, yet they account for 80% of seclusion incidents and 77% of physical restraints (U.S. Department of Education, Civil Rights Data Collection).

• Many of these students are as young as preschool and early elementary age. The very children most in need of patience, support, and connection are instead being controlled with force.

• Families report lasting harm: trauma responses, anxiety, nightmares, and symptoms consistent with PTSD. Some children come to fear school itself. 

Here in Indiana, the numbers are equally troubling. Seclusion and restraint are documented thousands of times each year across the state, yet official reporting paints an incomplete picture. In fact, 69% of school districts reported zero seclusion incidents and 47% reported no restraint incidents—figures that audits and investigations have shown to be gravely inaccurate. The Indiana Department of Education has confirmed discrepancies between what some schools reported and what their actual records showed, raising concerns about oversight and accountability (WFYI). 

Behind every one of these numbers is a child like my son—scared, confused, and forever impacted. 

The Cost Beyond the Classroom 

Seclusion and restraint don’t just end when the incident is over. The ripple effects stretch outward, shaping how children see themselves and how families engage with the very systems meant to support them. 

For families, the betrayal is profound. Parents entrust schools, centers, clinics and providers with their children, believing they will be nurtured, protected, and given every opportunity to grow. When that trust is broken, it changes everything. I know, because it changed me. 

For educators and support staff, the toll is heavy as well. Many never set out to use restraint or seclusion, but a lack of training or alternatives leaves them with few tools in a moment of crisis. I have spoken with teachers who carry guilt and grief, wishing they had known another way. Others have experienced their own trauma from being part of such incidents. Our schools cannot be places that harm children and break down the adults working so hard to serve them. 

There Is a Better Way 

The most important truth is this: restraint and seclusion are not inevitable. They are preventable. Across the country, schools and programs have already proven that with the right training, resources, and mindset, these practices can be dramatically reduced—and even eliminated. 

Some of the most effective alternatives include: 

• De-escalation training that helps staff recognize early signs of distress and respond with calm, supportive interventions.

• Sensory rooms and calming spaces that give students safe environments to regulate their emotions before a crisis escalates.

• Trauma-informed practices that teach staff to respond to the underlying need rather than the outward behavior.

• Comprehensive staff support, ensuring teachers and aides aren’t left alone to manage difficult moments without help. 

These approaches aren’t just “nice to have”—they are essential. They keep children safe, reduce stress for staff, and build healthier, more inclusive school cultures. 

Why I Chose to Speak Out 

I share our story not because it is easy, but because silence allows harmful practices to continue unchecked. Our story is our power. And our willingness to share it is advocacy in action. 

When my son was restrained for those fourteen minutes, it changed both of us. It marked a fracture in trust, but it also lit a fire in me. I could not let what happened remain hidden. By speaking up, I am choosing to stand for every child who has ever been held down or shut away, and for every parent who has felt powerless to stop it. 

A Call to Action 

This is not an abstract issue. It is happening here, in Indiana, to our children. It is happening now. 

We must call for better—better training, better resources, and better policies that protect children and equip educators. We must replace force with compassion, control with connection, and silence with advocacy. 

Standing Together with The Arc of Indiana 

I am honored to partner with The Arc of Indiana, an organization dedicated to advocating for and with people with intellectual and developmental disabilities and their families. The Arc has long been a leader in this work—pushing for stronger protections, safer schools, and policies that reflect dignity and respect. 

By working together, we can amplify voices, share stories, and ensure that no child’s cries go unheard. Advocacy is not a solo act—it’s a movement. And with partners like The Arc of Indiana, we can move closer to a day when restraint and seclusion are no longer accepted practices, but relics of the past.