REMEMBERING GIZZELL

Gizzell Kiara Ford was eigh

REMEMBERING ASHAQUAE

Ashaquae Foster was 12 years old when she died, less than one month before her thirteenth birthday.

She was a school aged girl whose life became increasingly isolated inside her family home.

Much of what is publicly known about Ashaquae comes from school records, child protection reports and the investigation that followed her death. Those records preserve painful pieces of her childhood, but very little about the things she enjoyed, the friends she made or the person she hoped to become.

What they do preserve is Ashaquae's voice.

At different times, she tried to tell adults that things were wrong at home.

She spoke to teachers.

She described being hurt.

And on the back of a school assignment, Ashaquae once wrote words showing how deeply the treatment she received at home was affecting the way she saw herself.

Ashaquae deserved to hear something very different.

She deserved to know that she mattered, that she was worthy of kindness and that adults were supposed to protect her.

ASHAQUAE’S STORY

Concerns about Ashaquae's safety began when she was very young.

Over approximately ten years, the El Paso County Department of Human Services received nine reports involving allegations of abuse, neglect or mistreatment.

The concerns changed as Ashaquae grew older, but they repeatedly pointed toward a child living in a troubling environment.

Reports alleged that relatives physically harmed her.

There were concerns about inadequate supervision.

At seven years old, Ashaquae was reportedly seen malnourished, digging through garbage and eating raw meat.

There were also reports that she was being confined or restrained to prevent her from taking food.

Other concerns involved poor hygiene, a urine soaked mattress and Ashaquae pulling out her own hair.

In 2006, Ashaquae told a teacher that her stepmother hit her.

The following year, she again told school staff about mistreatment at home, including being insulted and being struck hard enough to make her nose bleed.

Despite the repeated reports, Ashaquae remained in the home.

On the night before her death, Ashaquae was locked inside the small bedroom she shared with her developmentally disabled adult aunt.

The room was approximately six feet by eight feet.

Ashaquae's nose had been bleeding.

Neither Ashaquae nor her aunt could leave the locked room to seek help.

The following morning, Ashaquae was seriously ill.

Her father, Karren Foster, and stepmother, Tranquileta Foster, did not immediately seek medical assistance.

According to the subsequent child fatality investigation, they waited approximately six hours.

Tranquileta later told police that they were afraid they would get into trouble because Ashaquae had been locked in the bedroom.

During those hours, Ashaquae's condition continued to deteriorate.

Her stepbrother reportedly urged the adults to get help for her.

They did not immediately do so.

On August 21, 2009, Ashaquae died.

The coroner determined that she had choked on vomit and classified her death as accidental.

But the Colorado Department of Human Services reached an additional conclusion about the circumstances surrounding that death.

The child fatality review determined that Ashaquae's father and stepmother were responsible for fatal medical neglect because they failed to obtain timely medical treatment for her.

SYSTEM FAILURES & WARNING SIGNS

Few Abuse Angels cases contain a warning history as extensive as Ashaquae's.

El Paso County child protection authorities received nine reports concerning her over approximately ten years.

Some reports were screened out without investigation.

Others resulted in investigations that were ultimately closed as inconclusive.

Only one resulted in a finding of neglect and failure to supervise.

Ashaquae nevertheless continued showing signs that something was wrong.

There were allegations that she was physically harmed.

There were concerns about food deprivation.

There were reports of confinement and restraint.

There were concerns about her hygiene and living conditions.

There were troubling behaviors suggesting significant emotional distress.

And Ashaquae herself spoke to adults at school about being mistreated.

In October 2007, she told a teacher that her stepmother hit her in the nose hard enough to make it bleed.

Another report made that same day raised concerns about her living conditions and self harming behavior.

A child protection response was opened.

The later state review could not determine whether the assigned worker ever successfully made contact with the family.

Ashaquae remained in the home.

After her death, the Colorado Department of Human Services conducted a formal review of El Paso County's handling of her case.

The state identified multiple problems.

Reviewers criticized delays in responding to reports, failures to follow up when family members did not cooperate and decisions to screen out referrals despite repeated allegations describing similar patterns of mistreatment.

The state also questioned why a later referral was not reassigned after the original caseworker left the agency.

Corrective action was required.

El Paso County subsequently changed some of its child protection practices, including using a group process to review abuse and neglect referrals and adding investigators to help gather background information for caseworkers.

Those changes came after Ashaquae died.

Her case was not one in which nobody knew there might be a problem.

Teachers noticed.

Other people noticed.

Reports were made.

Ashaquae herself spoke.

Nine referrals accumulated over ten years.

She still remained in the home until the morning she needed medical help and the adults responsible for her waited hours to seek it.

JUSTICE FOR ASHAQUAE

Ashaquae's death illustrates an important difference between a child protection finding and a criminal conviction.

The El Paso County Department of Human Services determined that Karren and Tranquileta Foster were responsible for fatal medical neglect, neglect, lack of supervision and maintaining an injurious environment.

The coroner, however, classified Ashaquae's death as accidental after determining that she choked on vomit.

Colorado Springs police investigated her death.

Despite the child welfare findings and the documented delay in obtaining medical treatment, no criminal charges were filed against Karren or Tranquileta Foster.

There are therefore no conviction or sentencing blocks to include in Ashaquae's memorial.

FOREVER REMEMBERED

Ashaquae spent nearly her entire childhood appearing somewhere in the records of adults who were supposed to determine whether she was safe.

She became a referral.

An allegation.

An investigation.

A case that was screened out.

A case that was closed.

Eventually, she became a child fatality review.

But Ashaquae was never supposed to become any of those things.

She was supposed to become a teenager.

She was less than a month away.

She should have entered adolescence with people around her reminding her of her worth.

Instead, surviving records show a child who was being told degrading things at home and who began putting that pain into her own words.

The sentence she wrote on a school assignment saying that she believed she was ugly and that her mother hated her is heartbreaking precisely because no 11 year old child should have been made to believe either thing.

Ashaquae was not ugly.

She was not worthless.

She was not a problem to be confined behind a locked door.

She was a child who repeatedly came into contact with adults who had opportunities to recognize that she needed protection.

Her death prompted another investigation, another review and another round of reforms.

Those actions mattered for the children who came afterward.

They came too late for Ashaquae.

She deserved help while she was still alive to receive it.

She deserved medical attention when she was sick.

She deserved a safe place to sleep.

She deserved enough food.

She deserved adults who listened when she spoke.

And she deserved the thirteenth birthday she never reached.

Abuse Angels remembers Ashaquae Foster.

Remembered. Honored. Never Forgotten.

t years old when she died.

Known affectionately as “Gizzy,” Gizzell was bright, loving and academically gifted. She was a straight A student who had once lived happily with her mother, Sandra Mercado, and

REMEMBERING ASHAQUAE

Ashaquae Foster was 12 years old when she died, less than one month before her thirteenth birthday.

She was a school aged girl whose life became increasingly isolated inside her family home.

Much of what is publicly known about Ashaquae comes from school records, child protection reports and the investigation that followed her death. Those records preserve painful pieces of her childhood, but very little about the things she enjoyed, the friends she made or the person she hoped to become.

What they do preserve is Ashaquae's voice.

At different times, she tried to tell adults that things were wrong at home.

She spoke to teachers.

She described being hurt.

And on the back of a school assignment, Ashaquae once wrote words showing how deeply the treatment she received at home was affecting the way she saw herself.

Ashaquae deserved to hear something very different.

She deserved to know that she mattered, that she was worthy of kindness and that adults were supposed to protect her.

ASHAQUAE’S STORY

Concerns about Ashaquae's safety began when she was very young.

Over approximately ten years, the El Paso County Department of Human Services received nine reports involving allegations of abuse, neglect or mistreatment.

The concerns changed as Ashaquae grew older, but they repeatedly pointed toward a child living in a troubling environment.

Reports alleged that relatives physically harmed her.

There were concerns about inadequate supervision.

At seven years old, Ashaquae was reportedly seen malnourished, digging through garbage and eating raw meat.

There were also reports that she was being confined or restrained to prevent her from taking food.

Other concerns involved poor hygiene, a urine soaked mattress and Ashaquae pulling out her own hair.

In 2006, Ashaquae told a teacher that her stepmother hit her.

The following year, she again told school staff about mistreatment at home, including being insulted and being struck hard enough to make her nose bleed.

Despite the repeated reports, Ashaquae remained in the home.

On the night before her death, Ashaquae was locked inside the small bedroom she shared with her developmentally disabled adult aunt.

The room was approximately six feet by eight feet.

Ashaquae's nose had been bleeding.

Neither Ashaquae nor her aunt could leave the locked room to seek help.

The following morning, Ashaquae was seriously ill.

Her father, Karren Foster, and stepmother, Tranquileta Foster, did not immediately seek medical assistance.

According to the subsequent child fatality investigation, they waited approximately six hours.

Tranquileta later told police that they were afraid they would get into trouble because Ashaquae had been locked in the bedroom.

During those hours, Ashaquae's condition continued to deteriorate.

Her stepbrother reportedly urged the adults to get help for her.

They did not immediately do so.

On August 21, 2009, Ashaquae died.

The coroner determined that she had choked on vomit and classified her death as accidental.

But the Colorado Department of Human Services reached an additional conclusion about the circumstances surrounding that death.

The child fatality review determined that Ashaquae's father and stepmother were responsible for fatal medical neglect because they failed to obtain timely medical treatment for her.

SYSTEM FAILURES & WARNING SIGNS

Few Abuse Angels cases contain a warning history as extensive as Ashaquae's.

El Paso County child protection authorities received nine reports concerning her over approximately ten years.

Some reports were screened out without investigation.

Others resulted in investigations that were ultimately closed as inconclusive.

Only one resulted in a finding of neglect and failure to supervise.

Ashaquae nevertheless continued showing signs that something was wrong.

There were allegations that she was physically harmed.

There were concerns about food deprivation.

There were reports of confinement and restraint.

There were concerns about her hygiene and living conditions.

There were troubling behaviors suggesting significant emotional distress.

And Ashaquae herself spoke to adults at school about being mistreated.

In October 2007, she told a teacher that her stepmother hit her in the nose hard enough to make it bleed.

Another report made that same day raised concerns about her living conditions and self harming behavior.

A child protection response was opened.

The later state review could not determine whether the assigned worker ever successfully made contact with the family.

Ashaquae remained in the home.

After her death, the Colorado Department of Human Services conducted a formal review of El Paso County's handling of her case.

The state identified multiple problems.

Reviewers criticized delays in responding to reports, failures to follow up when family members did not cooperate and decisions to screen out referrals despite repeated allegations describing similar patterns of mistreatment.

The state also questioned why a later referral was not reassigned after the original caseworker left the agency.

Corrective action was required.

El Paso County subsequently changed some of its child protection practices, including using a group process to review abuse and neglect referrals and adding investigators to help gather background information for caseworkers.

Those changes came after Ashaquae died.

Her case was not one in which nobody knew there might be a problem.

Teachers noticed.

Other people noticed.

Reports were made.

Ashaquae herself spoke.

Nine referrals accumulated over ten years.

She still remained in the home until the morning she needed medical help and the adults responsible for her waited hours to seek it.

JUSTICE FOR ASHAQUAE

Ashaquae's death illustrates an important difference between a child protection finding and a criminal conviction.

The El Paso County Department of Human Services determined that Karren and Tranquileta Foster were responsible for fatal medical neglect, neglect, lack of supervision and maintaining an injurious environment.

The coroner, however, classified Ashaquae's death as accidental after determining that she choked on vomit.

Colorado Springs police investigated her death.

Despite the child welfare findings and the documented delay in obtaining medical treatment, no criminal charges were filed against Karren or Tranquileta Foster.

There are therefore no conviction or sentencing blocks to include in Ashaquae's memorial.

FOREVER REMEMBERED

Ashaquae spent nearly her entire childhood appearing somewhere in the records of adults who were supposed to determine whether she was safe.

She became a referral.

An allegation.

An investigation.

A case that was screened out.

A case that was closed.

Eventually, she became a child fatality review.

But Ashaquae was never supposed to become any of those things.

She was supposed to become a teenager.

She was less than a month away.

She should have entered adolescence with people around her reminding her of her worth.

Instead, surviving records show a child who was being told degrading things at home and who began putting that pain into her own words.

The sentence she wrote on a school assignment saying that she believed she was ugly and that her mother hated her is heartbreaking precisely because no 11 year old child should have been made to believe either thing.

Ashaquae was not ugly.

She was not worthless.

She was not a problem to be confined behind a locked door.

She was a child who repeatedly came into contact with adults who had opportunities to recognize that she needed protection.

Her death prompted another investigation, another review and another round of reforms.

Those actions mattered for the children who came afterward.

They came too late for Ashaquae.

She deserved help while she was still alive to receive it.

She deserved medical attention when she was sick.

She deserved a safe place to sleep.

She deserved enough food.

She deserved adults who listened when she spoke.

And she deserved the thirteenth birthday she never reached.

Abuse Angels remembers Ashaquae Foster.

Remembered. Honored. Never Forgotten.

her maternal family.

People who knew Gizzell described her as bubbly, smart and a blessing.

Gizzell also loved to write.

She kept a journal, filling its pages with her thoughts, hopes and eventually the painful reality of what was happening inside her home.

Even while her life was becoming increasingly frightening, Gizzell still imagined a future for herself.

In one of the most enduring lines from her journal, she wrote that she was going to become a beautiful, smart and good young lady.

Gizzell never got the opportunity to become that young woman.

But the words she left behind ensured that her voice survived.

GIZZELL’S STORY

Gizzell had previously lived with her mother, Sandra Mercado.

In December 2012, during a custody dispute, a Cook County judge awarded temporary custody of Gizzell to her father, Andre Ford.

Andre was seriously ill with scleroderma and lived with his mother, Helen Ford, in a West Side Chicago apartment.

Gizzell went to live with them.

Her mother tried to regain custody, but the court did not return Gizzell to her care.

During the months that followed, Gizzell became increasingly isolated from members of her maternal family.

Relatives later said they encountered excuses when they tried to speak with or see her.

Inside the apartment, Gizzell was being subjected to prolonged abuse and deprivation.

She was beaten.

She was restrained.

She was deprived of food, water and sleep.

Evidence presented in court showed that she was sometimes tied to a pole attached to her father’s bed and beaten.

She was forced to perform exhausting physical exercises as punishment.

Her condition deteriorated.

Yet Gizzell continued writing in her journal.

As the abuse worsened, her handwriting became weaker and her entries increasingly reflected fear, self blame and despair.

There were opportunities for people outside the apartment to see Gizzell before she died.

In June 2013, approximately one month before her death, Gizzell was examined by a child abuse pediatrician after making an allegation involving her mother’s boyfriend.

During that examination, the doctor observed marks on the backs of Gizzell’s thighs and another faint mark on her body.

The doctor did not conclude that the marks were suspicious for physical abuse.

Gizzell returned to the home.

By July, she was severely injured and dangerously dehydrated.

On July 12, 2013, Chicago firefighters and paramedics were called to the apartment for a report of someone not breathing.

When emergency responders entered the home, they found Gizzell dead.

Her body showed extensive evidence of recent and older injuries.

An autopsy determined that Gizzell had suffered blunt force trauma and strangulation.

She had also been deprived of adequate food and water to such an extent that her kidneys were beginning to fail.

Her death was ruled a homicide.

Gizzell was eight years old.

SYSTEM FAILURES & WARNING SIGNS

Gizzell’s death occurred despite involvement from multiple systems intended to protect children.

The custody dispute that resulted in her placement with Andre was handled through the court system.

Her mother attempted to regain custody.

During the months before Gizzell died, the Illinois Department of Children and Family Services had contact involving her.

In June 2013, Gizzell underwent a specialized medical examination after reporting possible sexual abuse involving her mother’s boyfriend.

During that examination, the physician documented marks on Gizzell’s body.

The physician determined that those marks were not suspicious for abuse and communicated his findings to DCFS.

Gizzell returned to the home where Helen and Andre were caring for her.

She died approximately one month later.

After Gizzell’s death, her mother and maternal grandfather pursued a wrongful death lawsuit alleging that opportunities to protect Gizzell had been missed.

A jury ultimately found the physician who examined Gizzell negligent for failing to report signs of abuse.

The family was awarded $48 million.

Gizzell’s case demonstrated how dangerous it can be when individual warning signs are considered separately instead of as pieces of a larger picture.

There had been court involvement.

There had been DCFS involvement.

There had been a specialized child abuse examination.

There were injuries.

Her mother was attempting to regain custody.

And Gizzell was becoming increasingly isolated from members of her family.

Still, she remained in the home.

Her journal eventually documented what the systems surrounding her had failed to uncover in time.

JUSTICE FOR GIZZELL

Helen Ford was arrested shortly after Gizzell’s death and charged with first degree murder.

Andre Ford was also charged in connection with his daughter’s death.

Andre never went to trial.

He died in the Cook County Jail in 2014 while awaiting trial.

Because he died before his case could be adjudicated, there was no conviction and no legal determination of guilt against him.

Helen Ford proceeded to a bench trial.

In March 2017, Cook County Judge Evelyn Clay found Helen guilty of first degree murder.

The judge concluded that Gizzell’s death had involved prolonged torture and described the child's suffering as slow and agonizing.

In June 2017, Helen was sentenced to spend the remainder of her life in prison.

Helen Ford

Relationship to Gizzell: Paternal Grandmother

Conviction(s): First degree murder

Sentence: Natural life in prison

FOREVER REMEMBERED

Gizzell left something behind that most eight year old children never expect anyone outside their family to read.

Her own words.

Her journal became evidence in the prosecution of her grandmother, but it was more than evidence.

It was Gizzell’s voice.

Its pages showed a bright child trying to understand a world that had become increasingly cruel and confusing.

They also preserved something the abuse could not completely take from her: her ability to imagine herself beyond it.

Gizzell believed she could grow into a beautiful, smart and good young woman.

She should have been right.

She should have returned to school.

She should have continued earning good grades.

She should have filled notebooks with ordinary childhood thoughts rather than documenting fear and punishment.

She should have had the opportunity to grow old enough to reread her childhood journals and barely recognize the little girl who had written them.

Instead, the adults and systems surrounding Gizzell failed to protect her before she reached her ninth birthday.

Her case eventually produced a murder conviction, a life sentence and a multimillion dollar civil verdict.

None of those outcomes could fulfill the future Gizzell had imagined for herself.

But her voice remains.

Gizzell Kiara Ford was a straight A student.

She was bright.

She was bubbly.

She was loved by members of her family who fought to get her back.

And she was a little girl who believed she had a future.

Her final months deserve to be told truthfully.

Her life deserves to be remembered for more than those months.

Abuse Angels remembers Gizzell Kiara Ford.

Remembered. Honored. Never Forgotten.