In May 2023, Amari Marsh had just wrapped up her junior year at South Carolina State University when a message from a law enforcement officer arrived on her phone.
“Sorry it took so long for the paperwork to come through,” the officer wrote. “But I finally have the report and wanted to see if you and your boyfriend could meet me for a follow-up on Wednesday afternoon?”
Amari knew this had to do with the pregnancy loss she’d endured in March. It had happened in the middle of the night, unexpectedly, while she was in the bathroom of her off-campus apartment during her second trimester. She vividly recalled the panic, the screams, and the overwhelming sight of blood everywhere.
“I couldn’t breathe,” Amari, now 23, said, her voice heavy with the memory.
After waking up in the hospital the next day, a law enforcement officer started questioning her. Weeks later, she received a call, informing her she could pick up her daughter’s ashes. She had no idea at the time that she was being investigated for a crime. Yet three months after her loss, she was charged with murder by child abuse, facing the prospect of spending 20 years to life in prison. She spent 22 days in jail without bond before being placed on house arrest with an ankle monitor.
In August 2024, more than a year after being released from jail, a grand jury cleared her of all charges. The case wouldn’t proceed to trial. Amari’s ordeal is a stark reflection of the criminalization of pregnancy loss in the U.S., particularly for Black women, and raises alarming questions about reproductive rights, healthcare disparities, and the justice system’s handling of such cases.
Since the Supreme Court’s 2022 ruling in Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization, which gave states the power to restrict or ban abortion, debates around these issues have only intensified. Recent polls indicate that 61% of Americans want Congress to pass a federal law protecting abortion rights nationwide, with upcoming elections putting these critical issues on the ballot in 10 states.
Amari’s case is a reminder that for many, reproductive rights are not just theoretical but deeply personal—and at the heart of a fight for the restoration of freedoms. South Carolina Rep. James Clyburn underscored this, saying, “This isn’t just a slogan. This election is about our fundamental freedoms.”
Amari’s journey began with a wave of fear in November 2022 when a home pregnancy test turned positive. Shocked and unsure of what to do, she didn’t seek prenatal care, believing the result might have been wrong since she was still experiencing her period.
According to an incident report, she had made an appointment at Planned Parenthood earlier that year but denied ever going or taking any medication to induce an abortion.
Amari had always been a model student, never even receiving a school infraction. She was a section leader in her high school marching band, performed at Carnegie Hall, and was working toward becoming a doctor when everything fell apart.
Her troubles started on February 28, 2023, when she was hit by unbearable abdominal pain. She went to the ER but left without being treated. Later that night, she felt an urgent need to use the bathroom. That’s when her daughter was born, unexpectedly, in her apartment toilet. Panicked and terrified, her boyfriend called 911. The emergency dispatcher instructed her to remove the baby from the toilet, but Amari couldn’t bring herself to do it, overcome with shock and fear.
First responders found signs of life but couldn’t save the baby. At the hospital, Amari wasn’t even allowed to see her daughter. That moment, her life took a tragic turn, with her being wrongly accused of murder in a system ill-equipped to handle the grief of pregnancy loss.
Now free of the charges, Amari’s story is not just about her personal journey, but a broader reflection of a system that often fails women—especially Black women—in their most vulnerable moments.