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The Isaiah Torres Memorial Fund, One College Way, Bentonville, AR (2026)

10/12/2026

I’ve been a little quiet the past few days, but there’s something I haven’t stopped thinking about. 🧡💙

TWO scholarships.

I know I’ve already shared this news, but I don’t think I will ever get tired of saying it. 🥹

The Isaiah Torres Memorial Scholarship Fund is now able to award TWO $1,000 scholarships instead of one.

And the more I think about it, the more I realize that TWO means so much more to me than $2,000.

Because when I look at those scholarships, I don’t see two checks.

I see two students sitting in classrooms, learning how to help people.

I see two people working toward careers where they may someday be the voice a frightened child needs.

I see future social workers, advocates, and professionals who may recognize something that others missed.

People who may listen when a child finally finds the courage to speak.

People who may make a difference in a life they haven’t even encountered yet.

And somewhere along their journey will be the name Isaiah Torres. 🥹

I think about that little six-year-old boy who loved Spider-Man, Woody, and the color orange. The little boy who wanted to grow up and become a police officer.

Isaiah never got the chance to grow up and follow his dreams.

And that is something I will never be able to make sense of.

But somehow, his little life is now helping other people follow theirs.

People who may spend their careers protecting children.

And I don’t know how to explain just how much that means to me.

When I started this scholarship, I wanted to give Isaiah something that could continue growing long after I was gone. Something that would carry his name forward and create opportunities for people who care about children.

And now one scholarship has become two.

Maybe someday two will become three. And three will become four.

I don’t know how far we’ll be able to take this.

But I do know that I am going to keep trying.

To everyone who has donated, shared, encouraged me, participated in a fundraiser, or simply continued saying his name with me, THANK YOU.

You are helping turn a little boy’s memory into opportunities for others.

And I hope you understand how powerful that really is.

I couldn’t give Isaiah the future he deserved.

But together, we’re helping create futures in his name.

And that is why TWO means so much more than $2,000 to me. 🥹🧡💙

For Isaiah. Always.

10/05/2026

ONE BECAME TWO!!! 🥹🧡💙

I have been waiting to share this, and I am SO EXCITED that today I finally can!!!

I spend a lot of time talking about what should have been different for Isaiah.

Today I get to talk about something that IS different because Isaiah was here.

When I started the Isaiah Torres Memorial Scholarship Fund, my goal was pretty simple. I wanted Isaiah’s name to continue doing something good.

I never had the opportunity to know Isaiah while he was alive. I can’t change what happened to him. I can’t give him the childhood he deserved or all of the tomorrows that should have been waiting for him.

But I can help make sure his little life continues to matter.

Until now, the Isaiah Torres Memorial Scholarship Fund has awarded one $1,000 scholarship each school year to an NWACC student pursuing an education in a field connected to protecting and advocating for children.

But we have had an incredible fundraising year. The fund has continued to grow. And I recently received news that I have been DYING to tell all of you:

🎓🧡 The NWACC Foundation Board has approved us to award TWO $1,000 scholarships each year!!! 💙🎓

TWO STUDENTS.
TWO $1,000 SCHOLARSHIPS.
TWO opportunities to help educate people who may spend their careers protecting and advocating for children.

And both of those scholarships will carry the name:

Isaiah Torres. 🥹

I don’t know if I can adequately explain what that feels like.

This started because one six-year-old little boy’s story found its way into my heart and simply never left.

I started by wanting people to remember his name.

And somehow, little by little, it has become so much more.

His name is being spoken.

His story is educating people.

People are having conversations about child abuse that aren’t easy to have.

We’re asking hard questions about what we can do differently for the next child.

We’re working toward real change.

And now, Isaiah’s legacy will help TWO students continue their education every year.

And here’s one of my favorite parts…

It doesn’t have to stop at two.

One became two.

Maybe someday two becomes three.

Then three becomes four.

And maybe years from now, there will be students we haven’t even met yet walking into classrooms, building careers, advocating for children, and carrying a scholarship with Isaiah’s name attached to it.

THAT is how a legacy grows. 🧡💙

And I need all of you to know something:

YOU helped do this.

Every person who has donated. Every fundraiser. Every shirt. Every person who has shared a post, told someone about Isaiah, encouraged me, or simply continued saying his name with me—you have helped his legacy grow.

And while we’re celebrating TWO today, I would absolutely LOVE to see how much farther we can take this. 🧡

I’m putting the two easiest ways to donate in the comments below. I’ll include a screenshot showing exactly how to designate your gift to the Isaiah Torres Memorial Scholarship Fund through NWACC, as well as our Venmo QR code.

And please hear me when I say this:

No donation is too small.

It doesn’t take one person giving thousands of dollars to grow this.

It takes a whole lot of people deciding that $5 matters. $10 matters. $20 matters.

Because together, those gifts become scholarships.

And scholarships become education.

And education becomes people going out into the world equipped to help children.

One became two.

And I cannot WAIT to see what we can turn two into. 🥹

If donating isn’t possible, that is okay too. Share this post. Tell someone about the scholarship. Tell someone about Isaiah. Help me put his name in front of one more person.

Because this has never just been about raising money.

It’s about taking something absolutely heartbreaking and refusing to let heartbreak have the final word.

His name was Isaiah Torres.
He was six years old.

And just look at what his little life is still doing. 🥹🧡💙

ONE BECAME TWO!!!

And we’re not finished.

For Isaiah. Always. 🧡💙

10/05/2026

Tonight, I’m just feeling really grateful. 🧡💙

When I started trying to find ways to keep Isaiah’s name and memory alive, I hoped that somehow something good could continue to grow from his little life.

And it is.

Little by little. Person by person. Year by year.

Tomorrow I finally get to share some news about Isaiah’s legacy that has made me ridiculously happy. 🥹

It’s the kind of news that reminds me why I keep doing this.

So tonight, that’s all.

His name is Isaiah.
His life mattered.
And his legacy is still growing. 🧡💙

I can’t wait to tell you more tomorrow.

10/03/2026

You don’t have to be an expert to make a difference in a child’s life. 🧡💙

I think sometimes we make protecting children feel so complicated that people become afraid of doing the wrong thing.

But so much of it starts with really simple things.

Notice them.

Listen when they talk.

Pay attention when something feels different.

Take them seriously.

Be the adult they know they can come to.

And if something worries you, don’t convince yourself that someone else will handle it.

Show up.

You may never know what that moment meant to a child.

You may never know that you were the person who made them feel seen, heard, or safe.

And maybe that’s something all of us need to remember:

You don’t have to be perfect to make a difference.
You just have to care enough to show up.

For Isaiah. And for the children who still need us. 🧡💙

10/02/2026

I keep coming back to one question: What could we do differently for the next child?

I can’t change what happened to Isaiah.

I can’t go back and give him the safety he deserved.

But I can look at the systems we have now and ask whether there are places where we can do better.

One of those places, for me, is how children are interviewed when serious abuse is suspected.

Imagine being a frightened child and being asked to tell an adult something terrifying—something you may have been threatened never to tell.

Where that conversation happens matters.

Who is asking the questions matters.

Whether that child feels safe enough to speak matters.

I want to explore legislation in Arkansas that would strengthen the expectation that, when a formal forensic interview is warranted in a serious child-maltreatment investigation, that interview happens in a safe, neutral, child-centered environment with a professional specifically trained in forensic interviewing, such as a Children’s Advocacy Center, with appropriate exceptions when circumstances require something different.

Arkansas law already requires interviews of alleged child victims to occur separately from the alleged offender. Separately could mean a different room in the same home the abuse is happening in. Or at school. I think it is worth asking whether we can build on that protection and make the way we listen to children even stronger.

And interestingly, this isn’t a completely new conversation in Arkansas. Legislators previously considered language specifically addressing trained forensic interviewers, and the General Assembly is currently studying procedures surrounding the Child Abuse Hotline and subsequent maltreatment investigations.

I’m still researching. I’m still learning. And I want the people who do this work every day at the table when these ideas are developed.

But I know where my heart is.

A child should never have to choose between telling the truth and feeling safe enough to tell it.

I cannot change Isaiah’s story.

But I can keep asking what we can change because of it.

For Isaiah. And for the next child. 🧡💙

09/29/2026

I’m asking you to do something small today that someday could matter more than you know. 🧡💙

Save this card to your phone.

Don’t just share it. Keep it.

Save it to your photos. Favorite it. Put it somewhere you can find quickly.

Because if the day ever comes when you’re worried about a child, I don’t want you searching Facebook trying to remember a number.

I want it already in your hand.

You may never need it.
I hope you never do.

But if you do, you’ll know exactly who to call.

And maybe someday, having that information when you need it could help protect a child.

Then do one more thing for me. 🧡

Once you’ve saved it, come back to this post and comment:

I want to see how many phones we can put this information into.

Every will mean one more person has these numbers ready if a child ever needs them.

Save it. Comment it. Share it. Ask someone else to save it too.

For Isaiah. And for every child who may someday need an adult willing to speak. 🧡💙

09/28/2026

I’ve been thinking about something this morning…

We talk a lot about recognizing the signs of child abuse.

But I’m curious—

What is ONE thing you wish every adult knew about protecting children?

Maybe it’s something you learned as a parent, teacher, nurse, survivor, mandated reporter, friend, or simply someone who cares.

There are no perfect answers here. I just want us talking, learning from each other, and paying attention. 🧡💙

Because protecting children belongs to all of us.

09/28/2026

Some days there are a thousand things I want to say.
And some days, one thing feels like enough.

His name was Isaiah Torres. 🧡💙

Six years old.
A little boy who deserved safety, love, and a whole lifetime of tomorrows.

If you’ve been following his story, thank you for remembering him with me.

His name matters. His life matters. And I will never stop saying his name.

For Isaiah. Always. 🧡💙

09/26/2026

I’ve had to say things out loud that I never imagined would become part of my life.

Things about a little boy I never even got the chance to meet.

I’ve talked about child abuse.
I’ve talked about systems that failed.
I’ve read court records and autopsy findings and words that I desperately wish had never been written about a six-year-old child.

I’ve asked questions that don’t have answers.

What if someone had noticed one more thing?
What if someone had asked one more question?
What if something had happened differently?
What if Isaiah had been protected?

And some days, it is heavy.

Really heavy.

Because once you know a child’s story, you don’t get to unknow it.

But there is something I want people to understand about why I keep talking about Isaiah.

Please don’t be afraid of his story.

Please don’t scroll past because it hurts.

Please don’t avoid saying his name because what happened to him is uncomfortable to think about.

And please don’t remember him only for the worst things that were done to him.

His name was Isaiah Torres.

He was six.

He loved orange.

He loved Woody and Spider-Man and hats.

He liked singing and dancing and knock-knock jokes.

He loved chicken and macaroni and cheese.

He wanted to be a police officer when he grew up.

He was a little boy before he was ever a case.

And maybe that is one of the biggest things this journey has taught me.

We cannot wait until children become stories on the news to care about them.

We cannot wait until there is an arrest, a trial, an autopsy report, or a memorial before we start asking what could have been done differently.

We have to care while they are still here.

We have to notice.

We have to ask.

We have to listen.

We have to report.

We have to be willing to be uncomfortable if being uncomfortable might help keep a child safe.

And when systems don’t work the way they should, we have to be brave enough to ask how we can make them better.

That is what has become for me.

It isn’t about living forever in the horror of what happened to him.

It is about refusing to let the horror be the only thing his life leaves behind.

It is a scholarship.

It is education.

It is awareness.

It is advocacy.

It is asking hard questions.

It is conversations between people who may never have talked about child abuse before.

It is someone learning a warning sign they didn’t know yesterday.

It is someone realizing, Maybe I should make that call.

It is a child learning, What happens to me is not normal, and I can tell someone.

And maybe someday, it will be a law that changes because people were willing to keep asking why we couldn’t do better.

I cannot give Isaiah the childhood he should have had.

I cannot give him back his tomorrow.

But I can do something with mine.

And so can you.

Say his name.

Talk about the uncomfortable things.

Learn what to look for.

Believe that protecting children is everybody’s business.

And please—don’t be afraid to talk about Isaiah with me.

Ask about him.

Remember him.

Share him.

Help me make sure that when people hear the name Isaiah Torres, they don’t only think about how his life ended.

I want them to think about what his life started.

Because I am learning that heartbreak and hope can exist in the same place.

I can be absolutely heartbroken over the life Isaiah should have had…

and incredibly hopeful about what his life can still do.

I cannot change his story.

But maybe, together, we can let his story change someone else’s.

And today, I’m going to keep trying.

For Isaiah. Always. 🧡💙

09/24/2026

This is probably one of the most honest pictures I have ever taken.

Those are real tears.

And that little face I’m holding is one I have carried with me for years.

His name is Isaiah.

I never got the chance to know him while he was alive, but somehow learning his story changed the direction of my heart.

I learned about a six-year-old little boy who should have been worrying about cartoons, school, chicken and macaroni and cheese, knock-knock jokes, and what he wanted to be when he grew up.

Instead, I learned what happened to him.

And there are things you learn that you simply cannot unknow.

For me, Isaiah became one of those things.

I have cried over him.

I have been angry for him.

I have wondered over and over what could have been different.

Who could have noticed more?

Who could have asked one more question?

What system could have worked differently?

What could we change so another child doesn’t become another story we tell after it is too late?

That is why I founded the Isaiah Torres Memorial Scholarship Fund.

The scholarship is not just about remembering how Isaiah died.

It is about making sure his life keeps doing something good.

It is about helping people who choose careers where they may one day advocate for a child, protect a child, listen to a child, or change a system for a child.

And this campaign has become even more than that for me.

I want people to know his name.

I want people to recognize the signs.

I want children to know what happens to them is not always “normal.”

I want adults to know they do not have to be investigators to speak up.

And I want us to keep asking the uncomfortable question:

What can we do better?

I cannot change Isaiah’s story.

God, I wish I could.

But I can refuse to let his story end there.

So I will keep talking about him.

I will keep advocating.

I will keep asking questions.

I will keep building this scholarship.

And I will keep trying to turn heartbreak into something that protects another child.

That is who I am.
And that is why I . 🧡💙

The Isaiah Torres Memorial Fund

10/12/2026

10/05/2026

10/05/2026

10/03/2026

10/02/2026

09/29/2026

09/28/2026

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09/24/2026

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