My Ex Chose a Casino Over Our Daughter’s Insulin—Then Tried to Blame Everyone Else When It Was Too Late

The burden of proof was lower, but we still needed solid evidence linking her choices to the outcome.

He said we had a strong foundation, but needed more documentation to make it airtight.

That night, I stayed up until four in the morning on my laptop researching the casino’s policies online.

Their website had pages about responsible gaming and self-exclusion programs, but nothing about emergency situations.

I found their corporate handbook through a former employee’s LinkedIn post, and it had detailed protocols for removing drunk patrons, catching card counters, and handling medical emergencies on the gaming floor.

But there was nothing about notifying gamblers of family emergencies or any duty to intervene when someone refused to leave for a dying child.

That gap in their procedures meant they had no official policy requiring them to help, but it also meant they had no policy preventing them from helping either.

I printed everything and highlighted the relevant sections.

The next morning, I drove to the hospital records department and filled out formal requests for all of Haley’s medical files.

The clerk said it would take two weeks to process, but when I explained what happened, she went to the back and came out twenty minutes later with everything.

The EMS report was hard to read.

It documented Haley’s blood sugar at over 600 when they arrived, her breathing shallow, her skin cold and clammy.

The hospital intake forms showed she was in severe diabetic ketoacidosis with her organs already starting to shut down.

But the worst part was the doctor’s notes.

With prompt insulin administration, meaning within thirty minutes of the pump failure, Haley would have had a ninety-five percent chance of full recovery.

Instead, she went more than two hours without it.

The medical examiner’s report confirmed the cause of death as complications from diabetic ketoacidosis due to lack of insulin.

I photocopied everything three times.

Over the next week, I wrote out every single detail from that night for Gareth, starting from when the sleepover mom first called me.

Twenty pages of pure facts. No emotions. Just what happened and when.

I included exact quotes from my calls with Rachel, what the casino employee said when I begged them to get her, and what the paramedic told me about not being able to give insulin.

Writing it all down made me see the line clearly.

Rachel chose to stay at the casino, and Haley died in that hospital bed.

Every decision point where Rachel could have left, but didn’t.

Every minute that passed while our daughter’s body poisoned itself.

Gareth read through my statement three times, making notes in the margins.

Then he had me sign and date every page.

That afternoon, Gareth drafted preservation letters and sent them by certified mail to the casino’s legal department and to Rachel’s apartment.

The letters demanded they preserve all surveillance footage from that night, all transaction records showing Rachel’s gambling activity, her player rewards card data, and any phone records from calls made to or from the casino.

He explained that destroying any of that after receiving the letter would count as spoliation and could bring serious legal consequences.

The casino’s lawyers responded within forty-eight hours and said they would comply, but only with a court order.

Rachel never responded at all.

We filed the wrongful death lawsuit the following Monday.

Gareth had a process server deliver the papers to Rachel at her apartment. The server knocked for ten minutes before she finally answered.

He said she threw the papers back at him and slammed the door.

He picked them up off the hallway floor and left them at her door, which still counted as proper service.

Gareth warned me this was just the beginning of a long, expensive fight, but at least we were doing something instead of just sitting around grieving.

Two days later, Regina Norris from CPS called to schedule a follow-up meeting.

She had already done a home visit with Rachel.

She couldn’t share specifics because of confidentiality rules, but she said there were concerning findings about Rachel’s living situation and priorities that would be documented in her report.

Her voice sounded disgusted when she mentioned finding gambling receipts and empty wine bottles, but no food in the refrigerator.

The next week, I got served with papers at work in front of my co-workers.

Rachel had filed for a restraining order, claiming I was harassing her with threatening phone calls and showing up at her apartment.

It was a complete lie.

I hadn’t contacted her once since the funeral.

But I still had to pay Gareth to defend against it, which meant another retainer fee I could barely afford.

I sold my motorcycle that weekend to cover the legal costs.

Then I searched online for the casino’s corporate structure and found their compliance officer, Nora Kemp.

I called her office directly and left a message explaining who I was and asking to discuss their emergency notification policies.

She called back the next day, already defensive.

She said the casino had no legal obligation to intervene in personal matters.

But when I pushed and asked whether they had reviewed their policies after a child died because one of their customers refused to leave, she admitted they were conducting an internal review.

She agreed to a formal meeting the following week.

Meanwhile, I contacted the insulin pump manufacturer and requested all the data from Haley’s device for the forty-eight hours before her death.

Their technical team sent me a detailed report showing the pump had sent seventeen urgent alarms starting at 11:45 that night.

Each one required acknowledgment and intervention with backup insulin.

The alarms got progressively more urgent, and the final ones warned of life-threatening blood sugar levels.

That proved Rachel had received clear, repeated warnings that Haley needed immediate help and chose to ignore them all.

Gareth called me the next morning and said he was drafting subpoenas for the casino to get their surveillance footage from that night, along with Rachel’s player rewards data showing how long she had been there and what she had been playing.

The casino’s lawyers immediately filed motions to block the subpoenas, claiming customer privacy and saying they had no duty to preserve evidence.

Gareth had expected that.

He already had counterarguments ready about the footage being material evidence in a wrongful death case.

Three weeks of back-and-forth legal filings later, the judge finally ordered them to comply and turn everything over within ten days.

Meanwhile, I drove to the sleepover mom’s house with Antonia, who brought the paperwork for a sworn affidavit.

The mom was still shaken up about that night.

Her hands trembled as she signed page after page describing exactly what she’d witnessed, including Rachel’s exact words on the phone.

She described calling Rachel and begging her to bring the insulin, how Haley had gone from talking to unconscious in less than an hour, and how she had to hold my daughter’s hair back while she threw up before losing consciousness completely.

Antonia recorded everything on her phone too, so every detail about the timeline and Haley’s condition was documented officially.

That same week, I discovered Rachel had started posting on Facebook about Haley’s death.

She twisted everything to make herself the victim.

She wrote long posts about how I should have lived closer to be a responsible father, how I should have made sure the sleepover family had backup supplies, and how the insulin pump company was really to blame for the malfunction.

Some of our mutual friends were actually buying her lies and commenting with sympathy.

Others who knew the truth stayed silent because they didn’t want to get involved in the drama.

I screenshotted every single post before she could delete them and added them to my evidence folder.

Then District Attorney Damon Hunt called me in for a meeting about potential criminal charges.

I brought all my documentation, hoping he’d arrest Rachel immediately.

He spent two hours reviewing everything, but then he explained that criminal negligence resulting in death had an extremely high burden of proof.

They would have to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Rachel knew her actions would likely result in death and chose to do them anyway.

He said they were opening an investigation, but it could take months before they decided whether to file charges, and even then conviction rates in cases like this were low.

I left his office feeling defeated.