At 14, I Became My Little Brother’s Guardian—Until the System Took Him Away

I was only 14 when my brother and I were left alone. He was all I had, so I did everything I could to take care of him. But then, he was taken away and placed in foster care—and I was too.

By the time I turned 16, I was juggling three jobs and attending night school. Somehow, I managed to rent a small apartment. It was my first step toward my dream of bringing Samuel back home. Everything felt overwhelming, but I held onto hope that it would all be worth it once he was with me again.

During our supervised visits, he would quietly ask, “When can I come home?” I’d reply, “Soon,” desperately hoping I wasn’t lying again.

At the final custody hearing, the judge said to me, “Brad, you’re just too young.” But what they didn’t understand was that Samuel was my whole world. Francis, the caseworker, sympathized but said, “Brad, I see you’re trying, but it’s not enough.”

Back in my small apartment, I collapsed on the couch, thinking about happier times when Mom was still here. We didn’t have much, but we had each other. I missed those days and feared I might lose my brother forever.

As tears welled up, my landlady, Mrs. Rachel, knocked and brought cookies. “How’d court go?” she asked kindly.

“They want proof I can provide for him—like I’d starve myself to feed him,” I said, frustrated.

“I know how much you love your brother and that you’d do anything for him,” she said, resting her hand on my shoulder. “But the system needs more.”

“They say my apartment’s too small, that Samuel needs his own room,” I explained.

Mrs. Rachel smiled and said, “Why don’t you fix up the spare room upstairs? Same rent. Just don’t burn my house down.”

My eyes lit up. “Really?” She nodded.

I immediately got to work, painting the walls blue—Samuel’s favorite color.

A few days later, Francis came by and suggested kinship care was my best option.

Standing in court the next day, I told the judge how much this meant to me. “I may be young,” I said, “but I’ve cared for Samuel all his life, and I can give him a home filled with love and safety.”

Samuel’s foster parents were there too, agreeing he belonged with me.

The judge took time to decide but finally said what I had prayed to hear: “Samuel’s best place is with his brother.”

Samuel, sitting in the back, rushed over to me, and that day we celebrated with pizza. It was the moment everything finally fell into place.