In the sweltering heat of a summer afternoon in Birmingham, Alabama, a tragedy unfolded that has left two families broken, a community in outrage, and an entire system under scrutiny.

Three-year-old Ke’Torrius “KJ” Starkes Jr. was found dead inside a hot car parked outside a residence on Pine Tree Drive. The child had been left there for approximately five hours—between 12:30 p.m. and 5:30 p.m.—while under the care of a contracted worker assigned by Covenant Services, a private provider for the Department of Human Resources (DHR).

It was a death that was as preventable as it was heartbreaking.

Authorities confirmed that KJ, who was in the custody of DHR at the time, had just visited with his biological father earlier that same day. That morning, Ke’Torrius Starkes Sr. held his son during a routine visit at the DHR office in Bessemer. It would be the last time.

“As soon as I leave my son, the first thing he says is, ‘Daddy, I want to go with you,’” the grieving father recalled, tears welling in his eyes. “He says that every time, and it really hurts.”

According to standard protocol, a representative from Covenant Services would transport KJ to daycare after the visit. But this time, for reasons that remain under investigation, that handoff ended in silence, heat, and horror. The child was never dropped off. He was forgotten—trapped inside a locked vehicle as temperatures climbed outside.

When KJ’s foster mother arrived to pick him up later that day, he was missing. Panic set in. A search began. But by the time he was discovered inside the car, it was already too late. Emergency responders pronounced him dead at the scene.

The Department of Human Resources released a brief statement confirming the child was in state custody and that the third-party provider had terminated the responsible employee. Citing confidentiality, they declined to release further details. The worker in question is reportedly cooperating with Birmingham Police and was brought in for questioning.

Still, for KJ’s family—both biological and foster—the answers offered so far feel inadequate.

“We went to the theme parks. We had a blast,” said Ernest Miller, a cousin from the foster side of the family. “We were all looking forward to him growing up and being a part of this family, and now he’s just gone.”

The heartbreak runs deep. So do the questions.

How could a trained professional entrusted with a vulnerable child forget him inside a vehicle for five hours? What systems failed that allowed such an oversight to occur? And how many more tragedies will it take before real change is made in the way vulnerable children are handled by the very systems designed to protect them?

The case has reignited public outrage over hot car deaths and child safety in the foster care system. Advocates are demanding a full and transparent investigation—not just into the incident, but into DHR’s oversight of contracted workers.

Meanwhile, a small boy’s voice—one that once asked simply to go with his dad—has been forever silenced.

The last photo of Ke’Torrius Jr. was taken just one day before his death. He’s smiling.

He didn’t deserve this ending.