On June 5, 2026, I stopped being Dr. Rupi Lega and became Tiana Flores.
Tiana is a 29-year-old Asian/Pacific Islander mother fighting to regain custody of her two-year-old daughter, Mia. He graduated from high school and worked several retail and service jobs before a mistake that led to his arrest for shoplifting. He spent 14 months in prison, during which time he was separated from his daughter.
Tiana earns $500 per week as a seasonal retail employee and works part-time. He does not own a car. He relies on public transport. She is currently living with a friend. Rent: $2,000. Deposit: $500. He has no ID. Because of his criminal record, many employers hesitate to hire him.
Nothing about us without us
Tiana is fictional, but taken from lives that are very real. Her story is printed on the life card I was given at the beginning of Walking in Their Shoes: The Impact of Isolation – An Immersive Simulation Event. It is organized by Families Inspiring Reentry & Reunification 4 Everyone (FIR4E).
The woman who built it, Stephanie Jeffcott, is a survivor, organizer, and current law student. Her daughter was taken away and adopted while she was incarcerated for a probation violation. After two days of simulation, on June 7, her daughter turned another year older. It had been ten years since Stephanie had seen him.
“Every time I tell my story, it helps me heal,” she told me. “By sharing, I’m giving people hope. My daughter can see every article, every podcast and know that my mom is fighting for me.”
The exact size was the point
Through this simulation, individuals who refer to CPS or influence reunification decisions can experience the obstacles, frustrations, and realities that families face. The goal is to create empathy, raise awareness, and encourage awareness and compassion decision making. Judges, social workers, lawyers and other authorized journalists participated. The volunteers who work at the stations have all gone through the system themselves.
A large room was laid out like a board game – stations representing test cases, career centers, counseling services, CPS supervised visits, parents lessons, a pawn shop, a plasma donation and a wild card stand for life’s unexpected challenges. We went through a 30-minute round to complete about ten requirements before time ran out, armed with a limited amount of travel tickets and limited funds.
In the first round, I went directly to the test, because the review of my criminal case seemed most important. But when I arrived, I was told that I needed a document first. I didn’t have one. So I made a trip to the Department of Motor Vehicles to pick up my ID – using my limited funds, spending a lot of time and losing six of my transport tickets, just to fulfill my one requirement.
I then went to work station to get more money for accommodation, but I had to sit for five minutes and make it look like a shift while the clock went down. When I looked up, I didn’t get counseling, parenting classes, or housing. To make matters worse, I hadn’t seen Mia.
I am a psychologist. I couldn’t figure out how to do it. And I had the extraordinary privilege of knowing that when the round was over, I had to go home. When I went through four thirty-minute rounds and was never able to complete all ten tasks, I knew the process wasn’t working. The obstacles that families face are not proof of failure. They are system design.
What mandated reporters are never taught
Mandated reporters are required by law to report suspected child abuse or neglect to CPS. These include doctors, nurses, teachers, social workers and many others. The bar is low: “reasonable doubt.” Reporters do not need evidence. And in most states, they face no legal consequences for reporting you unfairly, unfairly, or incorrectly.
As a certified reporter, I have completed the required training hours on relevant topics. It never covered what happens to parents after their children are taken away.
Stephanie put it very clearly: “This is what you have parents – this huge list – and then you send them. It should be more than a social worker working with parents to overcome these barriers, not just giving them a list. This is what you signed up for. And if you don’t feel like you can do it, then get out of the way.”
“A lot of times parents are labeled and misunderstood based on their situation at that moment. The support they may or may not receive depends on the social worker’s perception of whether or not that parent is deserving — whether that parent is going to have a chance to get that child back.”
We all have to walk in our own shoes
More than half black children in the United States, CPS investigates children under the age of eighteen, often for poverty-related neglect rather than abuse. The system was not designed for Tiana Flores to succeed. It was not designed to succeed Stephanie Jeffcoat. And a report by an authorized reporter in five minutes can throw off the already precarious balance of a family.
Across the country, grassroots organizations are contacting families on the phone, connecting them to parenting classes and legal support, teaching them how to talk to their social worker and attorney, and providing the kind of insider knowledge that the system assumes families have but almost never provides. FIR4E is one of them – born directly from Stephanie’s own experience navigating this labyrinth alone, determined to make sure no one else does. He plans to continue his strong practice, starting with state legislatures.
Every authorized reporter—every doctor, every social worker, every teacher—who has ever picked up the phone to call CPS should do what I did: spend a morning as Tiana Flores. I was pissed, I ran out of time, I ran out of money, and I couldn’t see my daughter. Then I went home and continued my life. Tiana, Stephanie and many other parents cannot do this. This is why every authorized reporter must walk in his own shoes.
