My Name Is Lindsey Harris, and This Is My Story
Symbolic image of a broken home representing the trauma of family separation and child removal in Lindsey Harris’s story about DCF misconduct.
There’s a part of me that never wanted to speak publicly. I’m a private person. But after everything that’s happened, after everything that’s been taken from me, I realize that staying silent only protects the people who caused the harm — not the children and families like mine who are still being hurt.
In December 2020, my daughter Scarlet was taken from me by the Massachusetts Department of Children and Families. I was never accused of harming my child. I was a loving, full-time mother who gave my daughter everything I had. Our bond was beautiful. She was my reason for waking up every morning.
DCF stepped in based on a phone call — not evidence, not concern from a teacher or doctor. A phone call. From someone I had left in order to keep my child and myself safe. And instead of protecting Scarlet, they took her.
They claimed domestic violence was the reason. But years later, in court, their own attorney admitted that wasn’t even the concern. If that’s true, then why did they take her? Why did they put us through two years of court dates, case plans, missed holidays, and broken hearts?
They treated me like I didn’t matter. Like Scarlet didn’t matter. I jumped through every hoop. I did everything they asked and more — even the things they never put in writing. I followed their rules, went to every meeting, kept my job, maintained my home, and showed up ready to fight for my child. But nothing was ever enough.
Then they tried to discredit me as a person. They mocked things they didn’t understand — my work as a field investigator with MUFON, my interest in unexplained phenomena, even my honesty about what I’ve witnessed in the world. I shared things because I believe in truth. But they twisted that truth into something ugly. They submitted what I believe was an AI-generated statement in court — not even written by the attorney herself — to make me look unstable. It was disrespectful. It was cruel. And it had nothing to do with whether I was a good mother.
Scarlet told them she wanted to come home. She said she missed me and hated the separation. Even her own attorney asked for visitation. But they kept her from me anyway.
This wasn’t just about me. My family has been caught in the DCF system for generations. My grandmother’s children were taken. My mother’s children were taken. My siblings’ children. Now mine. My biological father fought for me when I was younger, and he still carries the pain of what DCF did to us all.
I’m not the person they tried to make me out to be. I’m strong. I’m stable. I’m a provider. I’m a mother. And I’m done letting them tell my story for me.
Now I’m telling it myself. For Scarlet. For every other child who’s been taken without cause. For every parent who's been silenced by fear. I know who I am. I know what I’ve been through. And I know I’m not alone.
– Lindsey Harris
