NOT AT THIS TIME
The hill that spans from the small Summerkids pool to the front gate, which is another hundred feet or more beyond this photo. (Photo Doug Forbes)
By Doug Forbes
I am the President of Meow Meow Foundation for one reason only: to honor my daughter in her death as I did in her life. Roxie deserves everything I can give. She gave me everything she had while her feet were planted on this earth for six-and-a-half short years. I’m in tears hour after hour, day after day over how much I miss my girl, my love, my joy, my future.
Roxie was killed by the employees and owners at Summerkids in Altadena, CA. This is irrefutable. We already have mountains of proof. We have motive. We have a coverup. We have lies as wide and deep as galaxies. And more of them will bubble to the surface in the coming months. People are talking. And we are listening.
All of this will make its way public soon enough. Soon enough.
This coincides with the idea that this very public-facing nonprofit foundation believes in teachable moments, even if they unravel out of terrible events—like the killing of a beautiful little girl with a huge heart. We must understand the epidemiology of drownings to eliminate them in the future, no matter how horrific the cause or circumstance.
Roxie’s lion heart is our heart. We believe that we must always have the heart to demand truth and transparency from caregivers, whether such caregivers are at public pools or private camps and child care facilities.
We also believe that, first and foremost, decency matters for the sake of the emotional and physical well-being of other children. Sadly, decency is fast becoming a rather rare commodity.
Former Summerkids Assistant Director Jaimi Harrison was recently asked if she had anything to say to my wife and me in the wake of our daughter’s death. Harrison said, “Not at this time.”
Not at this time.
So, when is it time for Harrison to say what is appropriate and candid and unimpeded, instead of calculated, so that we may better understand the full-scope epidemiology that caused Roxie to drown? When will she be decent enough to do that? Will it only be when we ourselves make the truth public? When her legal protections disappear? When the reality of her role is crystallized?
Children deserve better. In fact, they deserve the absolute best of our best. They do not deserve our truths and our decency solely when affording such things is convenient or safe. Harrison should know that. She has adult children of her own.
I remember the first time I met Harrison. I arrived to pick up Roxie after her first day at Summerkids 16 months ago. I spotted her slogging up a hill, her backpack and other items dragging her down. A long, tiring day for my peanut. I took a few steps off of a landing area to help.
“No parents past the landing—return to the landing!” That was Harrison barking an order at me in front of other parents and kids, which prohibited me from helping my very own daughter. Parents were not allowed to set foot on the property past the pick-up landing area, Harrison said.
Who the hell established that rule, I thought to myself. I was pissed as I walked out, but rather than saying anything to Harrison in front of other families, I took my girl home for some snacks and cherished hangout time.
I told my wife about Harrison. I wanted out. I wanted Roxie out. But I took some deep breaths. My wife and I thought that maybe I was over-reacting. Maybe I misheard or misread her or the situation.
We returned Roxie to Summerkids the next day.
I am haunted by that choice. It was the wrong choice. It was a deadly choice. And it is why our foundation is now devoted to helping other parents and guardians make informed choices before they commit their children to caregivers.
Approximately sixteen months after Harrison barked an unreasonable and indecent order in a public setting, she sat in a private, protected setting where she defiantly said she had nothing to say to my wife or me—”not at this time.”
She also said, “It was not that big of a hill.” She was referring to the hill that Roxie struggled to climb.
Think about that. This is what she says? Harrison was the only full time Summerkids staffer other than the few owners from the DiMassa family. Our child died on her watch and that of her bosses. Period. And these are the words she chooses?
This type of indecency cannot become normalized. And now my wife and I have to struggle up a hundred hills of unbearable grief every hour for the rest of our days.
It would be indecent of me if I were to disregard the fact that Harrison was, indeed, involved in the CPR effort to try to revive Roxie from her drowning. But according to multiple medical reports, Roxie was dead by the time Harrison even attempted her first chest compression. The CPR effort and certification processes themselves will soon become the subjects of far more public discussion. CPR saves lives. But if administered improperly, consequences can be devastating.
Harrison said, “I am incredibly proud of how they handled themselves,” referring to the Summerkids employees who neglected Roxie to death. She also repeatedly said she did not currently know that Summerkids lifeguards and water safety instructors never received requisite training or any testing and therefore possessed bogus certifications. This was a lie. Harrison is highly familiar with the reporting of that revelation on this very website. Incidentally, the American Red Cross also agreed with our foundation and revoked all relevant certifications.
And another note about state of mind and decency. Harrison said she went to a social event later that very day after Roxie died on her watch.
Harrison had a hand in interviewing counselors, including first-year counselor Hank Rainey whom she thought to be an ideal fit as Roxie’s buddy counselor. Rainey was in the pool when Roxie drowned.
And here’s Rainey’s decency. He ran about Pasadena the next day, gleefully jabbering with friends on social media. Some weeks later, Rainey and his friends would piss on a well-known black-owned restaurant in Silver Lake and joyfully post the photo on Instagram. He said it was “insensitive.”
Another Summerkids employee was arrested and jailed but welcomed back to work. Yet, Harrison admitted that she knew of no background checks—no background checks at a facility that annually supervises hundreds and hundreds of children as young as three. How could she not think that was both indecent and highly dangerous?
Over and over again, Harrison also refused to say that Roxie drowned. She downright refused. Instead, she said that Roxie “passed away.” She even went so far to say “We lost a child.”
We lost a child? We?
I am fairly certain you can find Harrison’s children somewhere. She went to a social event the night Roxie died. And she returned to Summerkids the Monday after. And she has adult children in tow. What did she lose over those 48 hours?
She did not lose a child. We did not lose a child. Our child was killed. Our child drowned. And it is beyond deplorable that she would think let alone speak those words.
“We lost a child”—those words will forever ring in my head like “not at this time” and “get back on the landing.” All of it rages like a fire engine siren clanging against the walls of my skull.
This foundation teaches how words matter. To eliminate drowning, we must first properly acknowledge it and address it. We must use the words fatal or nonfatal drowning or fatal or nonfatal submersion—this is now widely adopted language in the drowning prevention advocacy arena.
Adults must also treat our children with the dignity and respect they deserve and use the words dead or died or drowned. Saying to a child that another child is lost is deeply confusing and disrespectful. Surviving children will want to know when the dead child will be found.
Finally, Harrison craftily shifted most if not all culpability to her former Summerkids bosses, Cara, Joe and Maria Di Massa. Harrison apparently toed a fine line because the DiMassa’s insurance company pays her attorney’s fees. That’s the way these things work. Perhaps, however, a different attorney allows her to distance herself from her former employer. She repeatedly said it was not her responsibility to do this or to do that at Summerkids. “It was not my place,” she said.
So, what is our place as adults? Is it our place to protect ourselves and our own small circles despite the fact that mistruths and misdirection often have considerably far-reaching consequences that negatively affect our most vulnerable citizens—our children?
Harrison can attempt to distance herself from Summerkids, but Summerkids cannot distance itself from her, now that it is an indelibly dark hour for all those who allowed a little girl to suffer an unfathomable death.
It was Harrison’s choice to work for the DiMassas for 10 years. As she has said, “I’m a jack of all trades [at Summerkids]. I do all the medical [for Summerkids]. I’ve ridden to hospitals [for Summerkids]. And in a situation like this [drowning], I am fully trained and I responded.”
Incidentally, a child suffered a compound fracture at Summerkids only weeks after our child died there. Summerkids owner Cara DiMassa rode in the ambulance with that child. During the preceding camp season, yet another child was rushed to the hospital with a compound fracture. Harrison rode to the hospital with that child.
Neither Harrison or DiMassa rode to the hospital with Roxie.
We will be relentless in our fight to unearth and reveal the truth of Roxie’s death so that our foundation can better fight for water safety and camp safety measures that children deserve. We are gathering social scientists and aquatics experts to finally engage in candid conversations about adult accountability, about adult decency. After all, nearly nine in ten childhood drownings occur under adult supervision, according to the Consumer Product Safety Council.
We cannot continue to allow ourselves to say “not at this time.” If we do, there may soon be no time left for another little girl who is about to enter a pool somewhere.