Emily (not her real name) was 16 when I went to see her in the psychiatric wing of the ER at a Connecticut hospital. Emily was in foster care and I was assigned to be her advocate through the volunteer organization Connecticut CASA. I arrived to find her in a room with no windows, only bare beige walls, glass that looked into the nurses’ station, an armchair, and a fuzzy, small TV embedded in the ceiling.

Emily was normally very charming and expressive. There she looked hollow, as if her humanity had been drained out of her.

Emily had been cleared to leave hours before by the examining physicians. But she remained in that room for a total of three days as a result of a practice called “ED boarding.” In other states, child protection agencies house children who are waiting on homes in their offices. Connecticut no longer allows this, as child advocates have argued this practice is dehumanizing. Mental health ED boarding is more than simply dehumanizing; the experience is tantamount to solitary confinement.

Like many foster children, Emily’s history of abuse and neglect meant she often reacted explosively when angry. When her tantrums were especially destructive, the Department of Children and Families would send her to the hospital for psychiatric evaluation. Emily estimates that she was sent to the ER for psychiatric care 15 times over the course of her life. The ER physicians determined it was medically necessary for her to be there only once. Sometimes she was left in the ER for hours.

Other times, she was left there for days. Emily’s story is in no way unique. A 2024 study found that within one year of entering foster care, 24% of foster children had been sent to a mental health emergency department. A 2026 study determined that children with experience in foster care spent an average of 24% more time in a mental health ED than other children, and were twice as likely to be physically or pharmacologically restrained.

The ER’s psych unit is no place for any child. It was eerily quiet, except when a new patient was brought in screaming. I was allowed to bring nothing that could help us pass the time. While nurses came in periodically to check Emily’s vitals, they did not speak to her except at my prompting. It was hard to tell the passage of time without sunlight. After long nights alone, Emily was desperate for human connection by the time I arrived each morning. As much as I enjoyed spending time with Emily, forcing myself to stay in that place was hard to manage even as an adult. I felt relief when I got to return to the real world each night, a world with colors, a variety of activities to stimulate my mind, and human contact. I was the only one who visited Emily. Otherwise, she was alone.

Prison policy reformers have long spoken of the damage solitary confinement inflicts upon adults. According to the Prison Policy Initiative , human beings experience “social pain” when deprived of human interaction for prolonged periods of time. Half of the inmates who commit suicide are those who have experienced solitary confinement. Connecticut state law prohibits the use of solitary confinement for child detainees, as they are more psychologically vulnerable to its effects .

Prolonged social isolation took its toll on Emily, too. She was so desperate to leave the hospital that she willingly took the first foster placement offered: a home where the family’s teenage biological son had snuck into her room at night to ask for sexual favors. She had never reported the incidents to DCF for fear of not being believed. Refusing this placement would have meant languishing in that room for hours or even days longer. That seemed more intolerable to Emily than sexual harassment. 

I call upon state legislators and DCF to prevent future foster children from experiencing the trauma inflicted upon Emily. Deescalation procedures should be systematically implemented in order to prevent unnecessary mental health ED visits. Restrictions should also be placed on ED boarding in order to eliminate prolonged social isolation.

Our state’s most vulnerable children need attention and support, not solitary confinement.

Larissa Pitts lives in Southington.