The story of Rebecca,

The mother of Danielle

Last week I shared the story of Danielle with you. Now we continue this heart breaking story, with the story of her mother Rebecca and her fight for justice.

Here we go:

The Story of Rebecca: A Mother’s Battle for Justice in a System That Failed Her As told by an author documenting the case from Denmark

In a world that often feels as though it’s unraveling at the seams, there are some stories that pierce the veil of normalcy so deeply, they demand to be told, not as headlines, but as truth carved into the heart of humanity. This is one of them.

It’s the story of a mother named Rebecca, and her daughter, Danielle Cathleen Alvarez.

Danielle was not just another young woman, she was joy. A radiant soul full of compassion, laughter, and quiet strength. Those who knew her speak of her as light in human form. And it was that light that was brutally extinguished by those sworn to protect and heal. She walked into Northwell Health Glen Cove Hospital with a simple cough. Forty days later, she was gone, overdosed, violated by medical protocols, and suffocated under the weight of indifference and greed.

This was not medical error. It was intentional. It was methodical. It was a sacrifice at the altar of profit, cloaked in white coats and concealed behind hospital walls.

What followed Danielle’s death was not rest, not justice, not peace. It was war. Not of guns or armies, but of legal red tape, bureaucratic cruelty, and spiritual darkness that rivals any battlefield. Her mother Rebecca, grief-stricken but unwilling to be silenced, became a lone soldier in a battle most wouldn’t dare enter.

From my home in Denmark, I began documenting this case following it closely, reading court documents, watching filings, and witnessing the enormous resistance one woman encountered just for demanding what every mother deserves: accountability.

After Danielle’s death in 2021, Rebecca began her fight for justice by dialing attorney after attorney. The responses were cold, mechanical. Some refused to speak with her. Others hung up the phone before she could finish her plea. It wasn't about right or wrong it was about money. And if there was no money in it for them, they walked away. But Rebecca didn’t.

She moved through the darkness, knocking on every door joining advocacy groups, pleading for help from groups who claimed to be on the side of truth.

On April 5th, 2024 with only 15 minutes left before the statute of limitations would expire, Rebecca filed her own case in court. She had no attorney. No paralegal. No law degree. Just pain, truth, and the will of a mother who refused to let her daughter’s name be buried with her body.

A friend from England guided her through that eleventh-hour filing. The papers were sent in. The case was alive. And so began another fight: navigating the legal system alone. Motions to dismiss flooded in from the defense. Long, dense documents filled with legalese impossible for a grieving mother to comprehend yet Rebecca kept responding, sometimes filing multiple documents just to try and keep the case from vanishing. Mistakes were made, yes. But courage never failed.

The court’s clerks wrote her: “You need an attorney.” Judges granted her time. But even when given 90 days to find legal counsel, no one would take the case. Because this wasn’t just a malpractice case it was a direct threat to a powerful, wealthy, and well-connected institution: Northwell Health. Its CEO had spoken brazenly about “letting people go” during COVID, confessing on live television what so many refused to believe: that medicine had become murder in disguise.

Rebecca had to set deposition dates herself. She had to respond to complex court demands alone. And yet she stayed standing.

Finally, divine intervention arrived. An attorney stepped in: Tricia Lindsay, a woman of integrity and strength, joined by attorney Graham Brownstien, a legal mind who sees that this fight isn’t just about one family it’s about all of us. They filed the motion to amend the complaint, seeking to correct the early filing done without legal help and include the violations, the ignored protocols, the toxic drug combinations that took Danielle’s life. The motion has been filed by the defense, again trying to silence Danielle’s case. Tricia has submitted supporting case law. The next court date is set for October 14th in Nassau Supreme Court.

This is no longer just a case. It’s a test of our humanity.

Rebecca is up against not only powerful hospitals and lawyers, but a force she has rightly named: demonic. These are systems that enable death under the guise of healing. These are networks that protect killers in scrubs and punish mothers who cry out. But they forget something: history does not belong to the cowardly. It belongs to the ones who stood when no one else would.

Like Rosa Parks, who refused to give up her seat. Like Harriet Tubman, who didn’t wait for permission to free the enslaved. Like Nelson Mandela, who endured decades in prison to end apartheid. Like Mahatma Gandhi, who brought down an empire with fasting and faith. Like Malala Yousafzai, who was shot for going to school—and won a Nobel Prize. Like Lech Wałęsa, who led a workers’ movement and toppled a regime. Like Václav Havel, who wrote truth in prison and became a president. Like mothers in Argentina's Plaza de Mayo, who marched for their stolen children. Like Martin Luther King Jr., who dreamed out loud when dreaming was dangerous. Like the women of Iran today, burning their hijabs in defiance of tyranny.

History has always been written by those who were first dismissed as foolish or fanatical, and later remembered as heroes.

Rebecca Charles is among them. She doesn’t seek fame. She seeks justice. She fights for Danielle, but also for every daughter and son who may walk into a hospital and never come home. Her message is clear: We don’t need more silence. We need voices, and we need the courage to speak when everything is against us.

Danielle’s life mattered. She was not a loving daughter. She was not a COVID “case.” She was a vibrant young woman whose only mistake was trusting a system that had already decided she was disposable. But she had a mother who would not let her be forgotten.

This story is far from over. And from my seat in Denmark, I will continue to write. I will document every update, every motion, every delay and every moment of courage, no matter how small. Because someday, this story will not be just a mother’s painful journey it will be the record of how justice returned, through love, determination, and the legacy of a daughter who still speaks.

Sasha Latypova painted this beautiful portrait of Danielle beauty and innocence Danielle Cathleen Alvarez August 5, 1993 – October 6, 2021 Forever loved. Never forgotten. Always fought for.

Rebecca Charles, Danielle’s mom
Florida, USA
Cell- 917-406-5393
www.deathbyhospitalprotocol.com