On March 9, we filed a lawsuit on behalf of a Douglas County family whose 11-year-old son, A.V., was handcuffed, restrained in the back of a police car for hours, injured, traumatized and held on $25,000 bail after an unnecessary School Resource Officer (SRO) response.

“I have never as a parent been tested like I have with this situation with J.L.” 

As the mother of four children with four different personalities and learning styles Heidi Laursen was used to wearing different hats to advocate for her kids. She had one daughter who was in gifted programs, who all the teachers loved, one with a variety of strengths and talents, who rarely required additional support, and another daughter who had dyslexia and required accommodations through an IEP. While there were a few initial challenges to get her daughter the help she needed, that process was mostly positive. But when her youngest child, J.L., showed signs of needing accommodations she found the process “jaw-droppingly different.” 

J.L. started having some behavioral problems in preschool. His teacher recognized him as “eccentric” but smart. As an ECE student at Dora Moore, J.L. was seen as misbehaving in class and was later banned from the Christmas program. That incident and the idea that he was “bad” increased J.L.’s feelings of despair when he came back to school the next year for Kindergarten. Not long after school started Heidi remembers J.L. saying things like, “I’m bad, I’m trash,” and “I wish you never grew me. I want to die.” She sought outside counseling for J.L. and his negative talk dramatically decreased. When Heidi went to the school asking for more help for J.L. she was initially told they didn’t offer IEPs for kindergarteners.

Heidi tried her best to be proactive with J.L.’s school but was consistently bogged down by bureaucracy. She continued to ask for help and a meeting was set for early February only to be cancelled and rescheduled by the school three times. When it finally took place in mid-April, Heidi was told that it was too close to the end of the school year for them to perform an evaluation and it would have to be pushed to the fall. In the meantime, J.L.’s behavior continued to escalate. One day, he made a mess in the classroom, and the school called Denver Public Schools security before calling J.L.’s parents.

When Heidi was finally informed about the incident, and when she arrived at school, she had two conversations that haunt her to this day. One was with the principal, who specifically instructed her not to comfort J.L. because she said Heidi coddled him too much. The other was with a boy who saw her coming to pick up J.L. and told her: your little boy just got arrested. “I could definitely see why a little kid would view it like that,” Heidi said. “But it made my heart cringe with pain to hear it.”

Yet, nothing would make her heart sink like the sight of one officer holding J.L. by his legs while another held his arms and shoulders. To her horror, when she got to the classroom she found her 6-year-old son struggling and suspended in the air. J.L. was writhing and breathing heavily - not quite hyperventilating, but not normal either. It was too much to take in. When Heidi approached, the officers let him go and she hugged J.L. and held him until his breathing slowed down and he was calm. She started picking up the classroom and was encouraging J.L. to start picking up too. His father arrived and did the same. Eventually J.L. started picking up. Things seemed to be calming down until Heidi said the principal came in with the custodian and told J.L. that he should feel really bad for all the extra work he caused and for what he'd done. J.L. re-escalated and ran out of the classroom. His dad went after him and brought him back to the classroom. They finished picking up the crayons and other objects on the floor, then left for an emergency counseling session with J.L.’s therapist.

While J.L. was not formally diagnosed his therapist thought he might be a child with high performing autism. But without any accommodations or understanding from the school that J.L. processes differently, he only received punishment and so did his parents. J.L. received an out of school suspension for a day after the classroom incident. When he returned, Heidi and J.L.’s father were informed one of them would have to stay with J.L. until 10 a.m. every day for a week and that  J.L. couldn’t go on the class picnic or class trip unless he was accompanied by a family member. One of J.L.’s older sisters had to chaperone since Heidi had already missed too much work due to the school’s requirements.

Struggling without support in school, J.L.’s parents continued to seek outside help. Those evaluations confirmed that J.L. suffered from debilitating anxiety and sensory issues. J.L. wasn’t “bad” - he just needed better solutions at school. But that support was still a long way away. The next year while still waiting for accommodations J.L. had several outbursts and was removed from the classroom. Heidi said they were often informed after the fact. Next, they were told that they needed to pick up J.L. up every day at 11:30 a.m. until the school could figure it out. That lasted about three weeks until the family was connected with Advocacy Denver in the hopes of getting J.L. the free and appropriate education he was entitled to. His advocate quickly got him back to a full time schedule but a day later he was suspended for having an outburst. Once again, the SROs were called in. Heidi said they were called at least three times — three that she knows of.

“I was notified and provided documentation of the incident that took place in the fall, probably because our advocate was involved,” Heidi said. “Until then, I didn’t even know they were supposed to provide a written notice. I was verbally told about another incident by the teacher. When our advocate requested records, we found out that the school had not been documenting any of the calls made to the SRO’s or providing us with notifications. We have no idea how many other times J.L. was restrained.”

J.L.’s IEP wasn’t being met and to Heidi it felt like they were trying to push him out of school. “I felt like the bad guy,” she said. “They didn’t want him. No one at school was talking to me anymore.” Heidi wasn’t the only one who felt like the bad guy. The stigma of SRO calls and suspensions instead of IEP accommodations made J.L. feel worse about himself than ever. In the end, the family switched him to another school in the hopes of getting him the help he needed and a fresh start.

“My heart sank learning about how J.L. hated going to school,” Heidi said. “I want J.L. to be in a better situation and I don’t want any other kids to go through that.”

On March 9, we filed a lawsuit on behalf of a Douglas County family whose 11-year-old son, A.V., was handcuffed, restrained in the back of a police car for hours, injured, traumatized and held on $25,000 bail after an unnecessary School Resource Officer (SRO) response.

“I’m worried about him ending up like Elijah McClain.”

Shandie Harris fears for her son J.J.’s life every day. As a six foot tall, 230 pound young Black man, teachers and law enforcement often see 16-year-old J.J. as a threat. J.J. has autism and learns at a 5th grade level. He has an IEP but that hasn’t been enough to shield him from bias and a system determined to misunderstand his needs.

“He doesn’t look like he has a disability,” Shandie said. “He runs when he’s scared. I’ve tried to give him bracelets. I’ve tried to protect him. But I worry all the time. Are the police going to hurt him? Are they going to kill him? He is my whole heartbeat.”

At Overland High School, Shandie said J.J. was followed by security often and that they’d kicked him off school grounds at random. During one incident, Shandie said his teacher felt intimidated by him. This resulted in J.J. getting ticketed at school for harassment, having to go to court, getting suspended and having a restraining order filed against him. Shandie was unaware of any issue at school that day until an officer called her. 

“I felt like they were trying to put him in the system,” Shandie said. “Why not call me first? I could’ve helped de-escalate the situation.”

But like many other parents, Shandie wasn’t included as a resource for her son until after the fact. She has tried to advocate for better SRO training in his school district but said nothing has changed. “They don’t understand him,” she said. “They’re not trained to. They’re not trained to deal with kids with special needs.”

While the legal case against J.J. was ultimately dismissed, both he and Shandie are struggling. J.J. has been depressed and doesn’t want to be at school after having bad experiences with SROs, experiences Shandie said he doesn’t fully understand. “I kept telling him every day, ‘We need to do this,” Shandie said. “I keep trying to motivate him but I feel he’s regressed.” He’s not alone. Because of court appointments, coordinating J.J.s needs and navigating his trauma, Shandie’s missed more work than she can afford to — at least 80 hours. J.J. is now an online student, a decision Shandie feels they were forced to make after the school said they didn’t have enough staff to meet his needs coupled with his trauma. His sister is a varsity athlete but J.J. won’t even attend the games because of the way he’s been treated. Shandie hopes he’ll be able to return to a regular classroom someday but right now he’s still too traumatized. 

“We’re going to try to take baby steps next year,” she said. “It’s been a very traumatic experience for him. It’s been very traumatic for me too. I cry all the time.”

Learn more and take action here.

“One of A.V.’s struggles is he doesn’t advocate for himself very well. Will he ever feel comfortable advocating for himself and his friends again? Will he ever feel safe talking to a police officer again?”

Michelle Hanson always wanted her kids to go to their neighborhood schools until the day her 11-year-old son A.V. ended up handcuffed in the back of a police car for hours, sobbing, injured, and traumatized. 

Like most young people, A.V. is more than just one thing. He is a beloved son, a fun brother, a protective friend and an enthusiastic student. A.V. also has autism and prior to the day he is arrested, he’s excited about going to middle school. A.V. is part of an affective needs program for students who require additional resources to succeed. He attends general education classes with aides who observe and assist students as needed. A.V. also has an individualized education plan (IEP) that outlines his necessary accommodations and potential triggers, like touch and loud sounds. It shouldn’t have been surprising that he didn’t react well that day. But it is astounding that adults who should know better reacted far worse.

Michelle says A.V. had three weeks of “gold” — “they were phenomenal weeks,” until that Thursday when everything changed. While working in class with another student from the affective needs program, a third student joins A.V.’s group and starts giving them a hard time. He writes on A.V’s arm with markers and then tries to write on his clothes. According to Michelle, A.V. tries to stick up for himself and his friend. He asks several times for the student to stop, but they continue and the aide never intervenes. That's when A.V. pokes him twice with his pencil. A.V. leaves the classroom voluntarily and is calming down with the school psychologist when the School Resource Officers (SROs) insist on stepping in and a situation that could have been handled constructively becomes a criminal matter.                                            

The police video of what transpires next is painful to watch and harder to hear. It’s even more excruciating to take in if you're A.V.’s parents, and it’s debilitating to live with if you’re A.V. All that A.V’s parents know after a call from his teacher that Thursday morning is that there was an incident between A.V. and another student. But it is hours before they discover what camera footage reveals: that A.V. had started to regulate himself and is calm before the SROs approach him, that the principal told the SROs about A.V. and his disabilities before they approached him, and that, regardless, they continued to intervene and aggravate the situation rather than remedy it. Instead of the principal, his teachers, a counselor, or his parents handling the situation, two unfamiliar adult men in police uniforms confront A.V. Scared, confused, and backed into a corner, what would you do?

A.V. becomes increasingly agitated as the SROs fail to understand him or back off. Shouting ensues and soon he is handcuffed and paraded through school with officers holding him by his arms and the back of his neck. Once outside, the SROs force him into the back of their patrol car as A.V. continues to scream, “Stop! Stop! You’re hurting me!”

Distraught and triggered, A.V. bangs his forehead against the partition in the police car. To make matters worse, his parents are unaware of what’s happening. Tired of waiting to hear back from someone at school, A.V.’s father drives over for answers. He’s taken to the SRO office to speak with one of the officers while A.V. remains restrained in the back of the patrol car. A.V.’s father is told they’re filing charges against A.V. for assaulting a police officer and poking the student with his pencil. The SROs do not allow A.V.’s father to speak to his son. He pleads with the officers to take A.V. to a medical facility instead, and reminds them that he is only 11-years-old and has autism. But common sense and compassion cease to exist once the criminal legal system comes into the picture. The police take A.V. to the Marvin W. Foote Youth Services Center where he is held on a $25,000 bond.

There are certain experiences most parents never expect to have. One is having their 11-year-old child get arrested, and the other is having to come up with thousands of dollars to bail them out. A.V. 's parents frantically contact the facility several times throughout the day trying to find out when he will arrive and to let them know about his diagnosis of autism. They leave several messages for the medical team and talk with the administration staff, desperately trying to inform them about his triggers, like certain sensations and loud sounds. But despite their pleas, the family is told that A.V. will have to be put into the general population once he is checked in. The family is finally able to come up with the bond later that night. According to the family, everyone at the facility is shocked that an 11-year-old boy with autism would be there in the first place — let alone on a $25,000 bond. Finally, after more than 10 hours, A.V. is released; but the ordeal has only just begun.

“When we saw him, his forehead and arms were so swollen and bruised,” Michelle said. “A.V. doesn’t headbang. He must have been extremely dysregulated. After we bailed him out, he wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t speak. It didn’t have to be that way.”

The next day, they call the facility to find out if A.V. was medically examined so that they can understand the extent of his injuries. The center says they were not notified by the police to do a medical exam on A.V., even though he was handcuffed for several hours, had banged his head repeatedly in the police car, and was visibly dysregulated and traumatized while in custody. If the role of SROs is to keep kids safe from harm, then they failed A.V. miserably.

His father takes him to see a doctor the day after he’s released from the facility. A.V. presents with a head injury, headache and swollen wrists. The doctor’s note describes the incident with more clarity than the school or the police provide:
A.V., an 11-year-old male, has been ill for 1 day with symptoms of headache. Pt (patient) is autistic. He had a bad reaction - he was in class, the child next to him was trying to write on him with markers, the situation escalated, pt then lost his temper... The teachers (and principal) asked the police (SROs) to stay back and let him continue to calm down and self regulate. Instead the police went into the room, A.V. really lost his temper, was kicking and fighting to get away from the police. The police then kept him in their police car for 2-3 hours - pt admitted to hitting his head repeatedly on the safety glass in the car. He was charged with 2nd degree assault on a police officer... Pt was transported to the Foote center - FOC (family of child) had to advocate that A.V. not be put in the main population... Pt never had a medical evaluation yesterday.

Still trying to understand all that’s happened, his parents call the school and speak to his teacher who is also concerned about A.V. She says the school was told by the SROs not to contact the family. A.V. is suspended for two days and before he can return there needs to be a complete re-entry meeting. According to his parents, his teacher apologizes and acknowledges that a lot of things were done wrong that day. She tells them that they specifically asked the SROs not to approach A.V. because it could cause him to escalate but that the SROs dismissed that direction. A.V.’s teacher says she tried to go to the police car to comfort him but wasn’t allowed by the SROs.

Later, his parents are able to get his backpack, his phone and his headphones from school. Adding insult to injury, Michelle sees that his headphones are crushed into pieces. (When the SROs arrived, A.V. had his headphones on to calm down with some of his special sensory music which is allowed and encouraged as part of his IEP). “Why shatter his headphones, which are like his security blanket,” Michelle said. “That just felt cruel.”

Cruel becomes a familiar feeling as A.V. 's parents find out from the Douglas County District Attorney there is a restraining order against him to protect the SRO who first approached him. Dumfounded, his parents ask how A.V. is supposed to return to school with a restraining order hanging over his head. The family is told they would have to figure it out with the school — a school that barely communicates and couldn’t keep their son out of the system. Several days after the incident, A.V.'s teacher calls Michelle to see why he isn’t in class even though the re-entry meeting has yet to happen. Michelle explains that she is not comfortable with A.V. returning to school with an SRO who has a restraining order against her son. The teacher says the SRO came by class looking for A.V. — he wants to make things right. After causing her son to become so dysregulated and traumatized, and placing a restraining order against him, Michelle is shocked by the audacity.

“There are few schools with an affective needs classroom, usually with about 12 children, one teacher and several educational assistants,” Michelle says. “The SROs have a responsibility to know these children, their IEPs and their triggers. They have a responsibility to do better.”

Six days after that fateful day, it’s cold comfort when the principal finally calls the family to check on A.V. His parents express their concerns and ask why the aide didn’t intervene before things got out of hand. The principal says that sometimes aides sit back to let kids problem solve on their own. But A.V.’s IEP clearly states that touch is a trigger. A.V. didn’t learn how to problem solve that day, he was simply set up to fail.

The DA chooses to pile five charges against him in the end: second-degree assault on a police officer, third-degree assault on the child involved, resisting arrest, and harassment of the principal and the assistant principal despite the fact that they didn’t want to press charges. Clinging to any kind of hope and determined to help their son, A.V.’s parents arrange an intake appointment at Children's Hospital. A.V. attends daily treatment at the hospital for weeks to process what’s happened to him. During the incident at school that day, the SROs badger A.V. to respond to their questions and show frustration when he doesn’t communicate. But the school psychologist, who was sitting next to A.V., told the SROs that A.V. was not highly verbal when they were asking him questions. The SROs, unwilling and untrained to understand children like A.V. and their triggers, only regard his disability as defiance. As a result, now on top of everything else A.V. suffers from severe PTSD. 

“It was a really messy process after Children’s Hospital,” Michelle said. “Lots of lawyers and specialists. A good month of work missed due to court appointments. Lots of tears. A.V. was — is — definitely traumatized. We all are.”

What A.V. and his family experienced that day has lasted long after the cuffs came off. The DA required A.V. to go through a court-ordered diversion program that lasted 11 months. A.V. is at a new school now but still struggles with severe anxiety which means more missed school for him, and more missed work for Michelle. He’s still scared and nervous around SROs and police but working to rebuild trust. The family is healing but the scars cut deep.

“I just pray that there are SROs with better training who know about IEPs and kids like A.V.,” Michelle said.

“Sometimes our kids look defiant but they’re not, they’re just not in a good space. They need compassion not handcuffs.”