Here’s how many years in prison she is expected to face. Mississippi mother who went viral because she neglected her freezing son, has been arre sted.

Mississippi mother who went viral because she neglected her freezing son, has been arre sted.

Good. Kambria Darby was arre sted in Byram, Mississippi after her 2 year old son needed paramedics’ attention for ‘freezing & shaking.’

Darby has since compared herseIf to Jesus in a Facebook post, saying she was being done like Jesus was. The boy was taken by Child Protective Services and later released to a relative with his two siblings.

Darby is facing up to six years in jaiI if she is convicted for neglecting her child.

Darby claims she did nothing wrong.

They did Jesus the same way, he felt sick to his stomach as well; he didn’t want to go through it. My village ain’t gone play about my 3 & neither do I! Again I can’t say everything it’s a legal matter but my kids are not a charity case, they are not negIected, and I am not mentally ill! Stop it with the defamation!”

Reports claim temperatures were below 20 degrees Fahrenheit while the baby was in nothing but a diaper.

The woman who tried protecting the chiId and filmed the encounter, Felicia Nicole, worked at the Walmart where this happened.

She has since been fired. Walmart doesn’t care about their employees! I was only trying to help, she said.

I Allowed a Homeless Woman to Stay in My Garage—One Day I Walked in Unannounced and Was Shocked by What I Saw

I tapped the steering wheel, trying to shake the weight on my chest, when I spotted a disheveled woman digging through a trash can. I slowed down, drawn in by her grim determination.

She looked fragile yet fierce, fighting for survival. Without thinking, I pulled over, rolled down my window, and asked, “Do you need help?”

Her response was sharp but tired: “You offering?”

“I just saw you there,” I admitted, stepping out. “It didn’t seem right.”

“What’s not right is life,” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “You don’t strike me as someone who knows much about that.”

“Maybe not,” I replied, then asked if she had a place to stay.

“No,” she said, and I felt compelled to offer my garage as a temporary home. To my surprise, she accepted, albeit reluctantly.

Over the next few days, we shared meals and conversations. Lexi’s sharp wit broke through my loneliness, but I could sense her hidden pain.

One afternoon, I barged into the garage and froze. There, sprawled across the floor, were grotesque paintings of me—chains, blood, a casket. Nausea hit me.

That night, I confronted her. “What are those paintings?”

Her face went pale. “I didn’t mean for you to see them. I was just… angry.”

“So you painted me as a monster?” I demanded.

She nodded, shame in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

I struggled to forgive her. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

The next morning, I helped her pack and drove her to a shelter, giving her some money. Weeks passed, and I felt the loss of our connection.

Then, a package arrived—another painting. This one was serene, capturing a peace I hadn’t known. Inside was a note with Lexi’s name and number.

My heart raced as I called her. “I got your painting… it’s beautiful.”

“Thank you. I didn’t know if you’d like it,” she replied.

“You didn’t owe me anything,” I said, reflecting on my own unfairness.

“I’m sorry for what I painted,” she admitted. “You were just… there.”

“I forgave you the moment I saw that painting. Maybe we could start over.”

“I’d like that,” she said, a smile evident in her voice.

We made plans to meet again, and I felt a flicker of hope for what could be.

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