A’miyah Wise was five years old.
She was small enough to still lose shoes, still need help tying bows, still believe adults would keep her safe.
She should have been worrying about nothing more serious than bedtime stories and morning cartoons.

She was from Philadelphia.
A city loud with buses, corner stores, and neighborhoods full of children just like her.
She had a mother who loved her and fought for her, even when that fight became unbearable.

A’miyah died in Wilmington.
She died while in the care of her father and his girlfriend.
The people who were supposed to protect her were the ones present when her life ended.

For two long years, there were no answers.
No arrests.
No clear explanations offered to the public.

What existed instead was silence.
A silence broken only by a grieving mother posting online, begging for attention, begging for accountability.

A silence that felt like neglect layered on top of loss.

Some reports say A’miyah’s mother was not even notified of her daughter’s death until four days later.
Four days is an eternity when your child is gone.

Four days is time that can never be forgiven or explained away.

Imagine learning that your child died days ago.
Imagine realizing the world kept turning while you were living a lie.

That kind of knowledge shatters something inside a person forever.

The details that eventually emerged were horrifying.
According to the medical examiner’s report, A’miyah had internal bleeding.
There was blood on her brain.

She had second-degree burns.
She had bruises in multiple places.
Patches of her hair had been ripped from her scalp.

These were not injuries from an accident.
They were signs of repeated trauma.

They told a story her body should never have had to tell.

A five-year-old does not carry injuries like that by chance.
A five-year-old does not bleed internally without violence.

A five-year-old does not lose patches of hair without suffering.

For two years, the state said very little.
Officials released almost no information.
There were no detailed press conferences explaining delays.

There was no transparency that could ease a mother’s grief.
There was no public urgency that matched the brutality of what happened to A’miyah.
There was only waiting.

Waiting became its own form of cruelty.

Every day without answers reopened the wound.
Every day without accountability felt like permission.

During those two years, A’miyah’s mother refused to be quiet.
She posted photos of her daughter.

She shared memories and begged people not to forget her name.

She reminded the world that her child existed.
That her child mattered.
That her child deserved justice.

It should never take a mother’s relentless pain to move a system.

Justice should not depend on who can scream the loudest online.
A five-year-old’s death should have been enough.

Eventually, the arrests came.
After two years of silence, A’miyah’s father and his girlfriend were charged with murder.

The words finally arrived, but far too late.

No charge can undo what was done.
No court document can return a child to her mother’s arms.
But accountability matters.

It matters because it tells the world this life was not disposable.

It matters because it sends a message that violence against children will not be buried quietly.
It matters because without it, the pain never stops echoing.

The delays raised painful questions.

Why did it take so long?
Why was there so little communication?

Why was a mother left in the dark about her own child’s death?
Why did information trickle out instead of being addressed directly?

Why did the burden of awareness fall on social media posts instead of official action?

These questions do not accuse lightly.
They demand reflection.
They demand change.

Systems are measured not by how they function when things go right.

They are measured by how they respond when a child is harmed.
By how quickly they act.

By how clearly they communicate.
By how much dignity they give to victims and families.

In this case, the system failed for far too long.

A’miyah Wise should be remembered for more than how she died.
She was a little girl who liked to smile.

A little girl who had favorite colors, favorite snacks, favorite songs.

She was someone’s baby.
She was someone’s whole world.
She was not evidence.

Her body told investigators what words could not.

But her life deserves to be remembered beyond injuries listed in a report.
She deserved laughter, safety, and time.

Her mother deserved honesty.
She deserved urgency.
She deserved compassion instead of delay.

Two years is a lifetime when your child is gone.
Two years is too long for a system to move this slowly.
Two years is time stolen not just from A’miyah, but from justice itself.

Now the case will move through the courts.
There will be hearings, motions, and legal arguments.
There will be dates written on calendars that once held birthdays.

None of that will erase what happened.
But it can acknowledge it.
It can say, out loud, that this child’s life mattered.

A’miyah Wise’s name should not fade into obscurity.
Her story should not be remembered only through her mother’s posts.
It should stand as a warning and a call for accountability.

Children depend entirely on adults to protect them.
When that protection fails, the consequences are irreversible.
That is why every delay matters.

That is why silence is dangerous.
That is why justice must be loud when harm is this severe.
Anything less is unacceptable.

A’miyah did not get to grow up.
She did not get to start school properly.
She did not get to learn who she would become.

What she got instead was pain she never deserved.
And a system that took far too long to respond.
Her mother’s fight ensured she was not forgotten.

Now it is up to everyone else to remember her too.
Not just as a case.
But as a child.

A child whose life mattered.
A child whose suffering should never be repeated.
A child who deserves to be honored.

Everyone drop purple hearts in honor of A’miyah Wise.
💜💜💜