If Any Netflix Documentary Deserves a Sequel, It's Take Care of Maya

Beata Kowalski did everything society expects of a mother. She doted on her children, Maya and Kyle, while also being a supportive partner to her husband Jack. She never let her career as a registered nurse overshadow her familial obligations, even as she developed her infusion specialty services. Her medical expertise served her well in 2015 when Maya, then nine years old, was struck with a mysterious condition that left her in constant, excruciating pain. Beata took Maya to all kinds of doctors while doing her own research, eventually finding Dr. Anthony Kirkpatrick, who diagnosed Maya with complex regional pain syndrome (CRPS), a rare neurological condition that called for an even more unusual treatment: regular administration of high doses of ketamine.

Her devotion and decisiveness were twisted against her in 2016, when medical professionals at Johns Hopkins All Children’s Hospital in St. Petersburg, Florida, where Maya had just been admitted to the emergency room, suspected that Beata was suffering from Munchausen’s by proxy. They questioned Maya’s diagnosis and treatment plan, despite hearing from Dr. Ashraf Hanna, the doctor who was treating her. A child abuse pediatrician, Dr. Sally Smith, spent roughly 10 minutes with the girl before determining she was a victim of medical child abuse, setting off a chain of events that led to Beata’s death by suicide in 2017.

This tragedy is chronicled in Take Care of Maya, a documentary released on Netflix in June of this year, just months before the Kowalski family’s lawsuit against Johns Hopkins All Children’s Hospital was finally set to go to trial. Director Henry Roosevelt (Sixth of June) and producer Caitlin Keating worked for four years on the project, interviewing the family, their lawyers, and journalist Daphne Chen, who first helped shed light on the family’s plight with her investigation on child protection teams in Florida. The result is a wrenching portrait of a family torn apart by good intentions run amok, whose attorneys have spent the last week in court presenting the dangers of medical staff rushing to judgment. This, after years of delays and the judiciary hemming and hawing over whether the family should be allowed to seek punitive damages.

The filmmakers take great care with Maya, now 17, who is primarily seen through video footage of her depositions, in which she details her time at JHACH and how it sowed a deep mistrust of the medical industry. Roosevelt does interview Maya near the end of the documentary, as she describes how keenly she still feels the loss of her mother, whom she never saw again once she was placed in the state’s care in October 2016, and the agony of awaiting a response to the family’s demand for justice.

The Kowalski family’s attorneys have finished presenting their evidence at trial, so part of this story is still unfolding. That’s often the case with documentaries; even with the growing number of docuseries on streamers like Netflix, it’s impossible to capture every side or development. But if any documentary deserves a follow-up, it’s Take Care of Maya. Not because the public is owed any more of the Kowalski family’s story — as Maya told People, she’s already missed a chunk of her adolescence. She shouldn’t be mired in a legal battle through her 20s, or trying to make something positive out of a tragedy. Maya, Jack, Kyle, and especially Beata have already done more than enough to raise awareness of how Florida’s child protection teams and similar institutions in other states can lead to questionable actions, even child endangerment.

Take Care of Maya makes it clear that what happened to the Kowalski family is happening to families all over the country, and has been happening even before child abuse pediatrics first became a specialty in 2009. Near the end of the documentary, several other parents are interviewed about their run-ins with Sally Smith, whose authority on child abuse goes virtually unquestioned in Florida, despite conflicting opinions from her colleagues and other medical professionals. These parents represent just the tip of the iceberg; Chen notes that, after publishing a local piece on the Kowalski family, she received calls or emails from hundreds of others who’d been through similar ordeals.

Roosevelt and Keating’s documentary opens up a necessary discussion about the realities of these government initiatives, which aren’t entirely wrong-minded. Another Netflix documentary, The Trials of Gabriel Fernandez showed the terrible consequences of a lack of intervention in a case of child abuse. It’s also clear that a “protect the child at all costs” mentality, particularly when combined with mass surveillance, can lead to family policing and separations, which disproportionately affect Black families. Take Care of Maya is one vital chapter in this story. But it’s only the beginning.

Take Care of Maya is streaming on Netflix.

Danette Chavez is the Editor-in-Chief of Primetimer and its biggest fan of puns.