In 2019, Kali was just a tiny girl, so small that she could easily be held in her mother’s arms, too young to believe that adults always knew how to protect children.
She had a sudden, radiant laugh, like sunshine breaking through the clouds.
She loves the simple things – stuffed animals, bedtime stories, the comfort of familiar voices.
No one could look at her and guess just how frail her body truly was.
No one could have imagined that her lungs, the very organs that gave her breath, would one day betray her so cruelly.
That year, Kali nearly died.
Both of her lungs collapsed during a severe asthma attack, a medical emergency so sudden and catastrophic that there was barely time to react.
The little girl’s tiny body struggled to breathe as panic gripped the room.
The alarm sounded.
The doctors rushed over.
Her life hangs in the balance, suspended between breath and silence.
In what seemed like an eternity, Kali hovered on the brink of the unimaginable.
But thanks to God’s grace and the timely arrival of the emergency services, she survived.
She fought to regain her life.
When she opened her eyes again, she felt like it was a miracle.
Her family burst into tears of relief.
The doctors took notes on everything.
From that day onward, Kali’s asthma was no longer mild, easily controlled, or even just theoretical.
The situation is very serious.
That has been noted.
It was a life-threatening situation.
Her family started saying that Kali had two birthdays.
On the day she was born.
And one day she almost died, but luckily she didn’t.
That second birthday held a special meaning.
It carries a warning.
It comes with responsibility.
Because surviving something like that would change everything.
That means every cough is important.
Every wheezing sound is important.
Every delay is important.
Especially for children.
This is especially true for a child who is unable to defend themselves.
Kali’s mother understood this better than anyone.
She watched her daughter sleep, listening to the changes in her breathing.
She knows her medication schedule by heart.
She understood how quickly asthma could become life-threatening.
She lived in a constant state of awareness that her child’s life depended on her vigilance.
And she did what parents should do.
She spoke up.
She took notes.
She warned me.
Time and time again, Kali’s mother presented her concerns in court.
She explained the severity of Kali’s condition.
She presented her medical records.
She described a near-death experience she had.
She pleaded for measures that would prioritize Kali’s safety.
She didn’t ask for convenience at all.
She is pleading for protection.
But her warnings were taken lightly.
Her fears were considered exaggerated.
Her real-life situation, as a mother with a young child suffering from a terminal illness, has been narrowed down to a legal dispute.
The court has ruled on the sharing of child custody.
Despite the risks.
Despite medical documentation.
Although we know that asthma doesn’t wait for adults to find a solution.
Kali was placed in environments that did not prioritize her medical needs.
Environments where urgency can be misinterpreted.
In cases where symptoms may be overlooked.
A place where every moment can be wasted.
And when it comes to breathing, every second is incredibly important.
This arrangement continued for many years.
For many years, Kali’s mother lived in a silent fear that she could never fully express.
Each exchange.
Each time I visit.
Every farewell holds a hidden fear.
Nevertheless, she still had hope.
She trusts that the adults involved will do the right thing.
She believed that if something went wrong, people would immediately seek help.
She believed that no one would dare gamble with a child’s ability to breathe.
On Saturday, December 6, 2025, Kali was brought in for a visit.
It should have been just a normal thing.
Schedule.
Temporary.
No one warned her that this would be the last time her mother would see her alive.
No alarm sounded.
No warnings were given.
Two days later, on Monday, December 8, 2025, Kali’s mother was forced to come and receive her daughter in a body bag.
No words can prepare parents for that moment.
No language is powerful enough to express the breakdown of reality.
The child who survived a collapsed lung is no longer with us.
It’s not because asthma is incurable.
But that was because emergency medical care was not provided in a timely manner.
While being cared for by her father’s girlfriend, Kali suffered an asthma attack and died.
Her body struggled to breathe again, just like before.
Her lungs had to work harder.
Her chest tightened.
But this time, help didn’t arrive quickly enough.
The child who once proved his ability to survive now has no more chance.
It’s not because medicine has failed.
It’s not because her health condition is unknown.
But the warnings were ignored.
Because of the urgency, it was delayed.
Because the systems designed to protect children haven’t listened.
Kali did not die quietly.
Asthma is not pleasant at all.
It was panic.
That is fear.
That’s the body crying out for enough oxygen.
It was the horror of being trapped in a small chest.
And Kali had to face that horror without the timely help she needed.
Her death was not inevitable.
That is entirely avoidable.
That very fact makes the loss unbearable.
This petition is not about hatred.
This is not about revenge.
The issue isn’t about assigning blame out of anger.
This is a matter of accountability.
This is a matter of child protection.
The issue here is that no vulnerable child should be put in danger simply because adults have ignored warnings.
We call for a comprehensive and transparent review of custody decisions for children with health problems.
We call for stronger legal protections when a child’s life-threatening health condition is known.
We call for transparency as systems ignore repeated warnings from parents, who know their children best.
We call for reforms so that every child’s right to breathe is never again disregarded.
Kali didn’t have to die for her mother’s warnings to make sense.
She didn’t deserve to be another name on the list of avoidable tragedies.
She should still be here.
Call her by her name.
Remember her story.
Let’s honor her life by protecting others.
Let Kali breathe.
