Deanna Joseph’s house, once full of life, is now full of boxes.

She slips into the past as she packs clothes that belonged to her husband and son. It’s easy to remember Andrew Jr.’s endless jokes, or the way Andrew “Peewee” III loved to wrestle with his dad. They shared the same sense of style, the same laugh, the same spirit.

Now, they lie side by side in a New Orleans cemetery.

Joseph III died 12 years ago, when he was struck by an SUV on Interstate 4 after deputies kicked him out of the Florida State Fair. His parents founded a nonprofit in their son’s name to advocate for policy change that might have saved his life. They also sued the Hillsborough County Sheriff’s Office for wrongful death, enduring six years of litigation before a jury awarded them $15 million.

Joseph Jr. never saw that money. The jury’s verdict has been tied up in an Atlanta appeals court since 2024, and he died in May.

Deanna Joseph can do little but wait. Qualified immunity — a doctrine that protects government officials, including police officers, from personal liability — has complicated the case. So has a statutory cap on monetary damages that can be recovered against Florida law enforcement agencies.

The Josephs’ lawyer said the family’s case, which has played out in federal court for a decade, could stretch into the foreseeable future. Even if a judge rules on the appeal in Deanna Joseph’s favor, she will have to jump through legislative hoops to claim what a jury said she was owed.

“We’ve learned that justice delayed is often sometimes justice that seems to be denied,” she said.

‘Fighting for our son’

Joseph III died outside the Florida State Fair on a dark, rain-soaked February evening.

The 14-year-old had a free ticket for Student Day, an annual event that attracts thousands of children for neon rides, farm animals and fried food on the midway. Joseph told his parents he would catch a ride home from a friend’s mother. He had a confirmation ceremony scheduled at church the next morning.

That Friday night, though, the fair devolved into chaos. Hillsborough deputies ejected 99 people and arrested 12 for what they termed “wilding” — large groups of kids making a “mad dash” and knocking people down.

Joseph was one of 95 children under the age of 17 caught in the ruckus. According to court records, he was seen picking up a friend’s hat on the midway as the friend was being detained. Joseph was then detained as well.

He was taken to a processing area on the fairgrounds, where deputies seized his belongings, took his picture and filled out an ejection form. The document gave short reason for his removal: “running through the mid-way causing disorderly conduct.”

Deputies drove Joseph and his friend, 12-year-old Corey Thornton, to a field near Orient Road. They dropped the boys off about 8 p.m. and left without notifying their parents.

The boys tried to make their way back to the main gate, hoping to meet their ride home. A deputy near Gate 4 refused them entry and directed them toward Interstate 4. So they walked back along Orient Road, passed through the Hard Rock Casino and dashed across I-4 to reach the fairgrounds.

Joseph then decided they needed to turn around, Thornton later testified. He made it back across several lanes of traffic before an SUV struck and killed him.

Later that evening, police identified Joseph by the Gucci scarf tied around his waist and a call to his shattered cellphone. At church the next morning, relatives and friends placed roses on the teen’s empty chair.

It still pains Deanna Joseph to look back on that time.

“It started as deep, deep desperation and toiling. Just darkness and grief on top of darkness and grief,” she said. “It’s like, why us? But then we had to say, well, why not us?”

In their grief, the Josephs turned to advocacy. They began pushing for rule changes at the fairgrounds, staging protests and drafting new guidelines in their son’s name.

Today, the Florida State Fair requires kids to be accompanied by an adult after 5 p.m. Deputies must take any misbehaving children to Gate 4, where they are to be supervised until their chaperone picks them up.

Deanna Joseph said her family wrote the new policies, but the changes were never publicly linked to her son’s death. At times, she struggled to balance her desire for vindication with an appreciation for her family’s progress.

“We never got credit for that (policy), but we know the truth, and anybody with a reasonable level of understanding and intellect would know the truth as well,” she said. “That is one of those moments when we had to pivot and understand that there was a greater cause.”

In 2016, the couple filed a federal lawsuit against Hillsborough County Sheriff Chad Chronister, Cpl. Mark Clark, the school district and the Florida State Fair Authority. At the crux of the argument was an allegation that their son was falsely arrested and taken into custody without probable cause.

The trial did not begin until 2022. In the meantime, the Josephs started the Andrew Joseph Foundation to support families of victims of police violence. They installed a granite paver on the Tampa Riverwalk with his name. A memorial mural was painted on a building at East Clair Street and North Nebraska Avenue in Tampa. (It has since been painted over.)

Joseph Jr. led the charge, serving both as the lead plaintiff in the lawsuit and spearheading a growing grassroots movement.

“He was the one on day one who hit the ground running,” Deanna Joseph said. “I don’t believe he ever had a day off out of the 12 years we were fighting for our son.”

‘Devastating and demoralizing’

It was perhaps a cruel twist of fate that Joseph Jr.’s death marked the first update to the family’s civil case in nearly two years. In May, attorney Chris Anulewicz — who represented the Josephs in their initial trial and again through the appeal process — filed a routine motion to inform the court of his death and make Deanna Joseph the lead plaintiff.

Four years earlier, in 2022, a jury had awarded the couple $15 million. Though it found the Hillsborough County Sheriff’s Office responsible for the death of Joseph III, it also found that Clark did not violate the teen’s rights when he first detained him at the fair.

The distinction mattered. Under Florida statute, state agencies can only be held liable for $200,000 in any one claim. An individual — even one who works at a state agency — has no such liability cap. Because the jury found the sheriff’s office liable, but not Clark, the Josephs would only be eligible to receive a limited payout.

They decided to challenge the jury’s findings.

“Our argument on appeal was that those two verdicts are completely inconsistent. You cannot have liability from the sheriff’s department, unless this guy is also individually liable,” Anulewicz said.

The Josephs also wanted to strike a blow to qualified immunity: a judge-made legal doctrine that protects law enforcement officers from individual liability unless they violate a clearly established constitutional right. In their eyes, Joseph III’s detainment violated his Fourth Amendment protection against unreasonable search and seizure.

In a 30-minute virtual hearing in October 2024, lawyers picked apart the short sentence Clark wrote on the teen’s detainment form: “running through the mid-way causing disorderly conduct.”

Anulewicz argued that “running” did not merit detainment, especially since Joseph III had merely been handing his friend a hat. The state’s lawyers countered that Joseph was part of the group “causing disorderly conduct,” and that Clark was well within his rights to stop him.

The judge ended the hearing with a promise to consider the evidence. Two years later, the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals has yet to issue a ruling.

“We’re just waiting for them to do something,” Anulewicz said. “I don’t think six months is unusual ... and I’ve had at least one case that’s taken a year, but I would say this is out of the ordinary.”

The wait became a constant in Deanna Joseph’s life, as immutable as her son’s bright brown eyes and love for silly pranks once were. She made peace with the lack of resolution, hoping to put the trial and its emotional toll behind her.

“It was such a grueling and devastating and demoralizing process to have to go through, to validate the essence of my family,” she said.

She still holds hope that the court will side in her favor. If it does not, she’ll have to get a member of the Florida Legislature to sponsor a bill that authorizes payment of the full jury award.

Whatever happens, she said, the verdict proves that she and her husband did not fight in vain.

“I say it was a moral victory. We never received any money, but we received the honor of our child’s name.”

‘So much has been built’

From the start, the Josephs wanted to levy their social justice movement in both the courtroom and the community. They needed a place to focus their energy as their legal battles dragged on.

The Andrew Joseph Foundation became an umbrella for the couple’s initiatives. The Andrew Soars Mission connected grieving families through biblical messaging and support groups. The Circle of Mothers organized educational sessions for middle and high schoolers. #TeamPeewee sought to improve security within school-sanctioned events.

The Josephs also became advocates for the families of victims of police violence across the country, offering support to the relatives of Tamir Rice (12, shot by Cleveland police), Michael Brown (18, shot by Ferguson, Missouri, police), Jaheim McMillan (15, shot by Gulfport, Mississippi, police), Jalen Randle (29, shot by Houston police) and countless others.

The day before the elder Joseph died, he was in Mississippi court supporting the family of Jaylen Lewis, a 25-year-old shot by police officers at a traffic stop in 2022.

“He was the voice of the movement,” Deanna Joseph said of her husband. “He began this journey, of course, for our son ... but other families came along, and then he became an advocate for them as well.”

In addition to fighting for the memory of their son, the Josephs also dedicated themselves to raising their daughter.

Deja Joseph was 10 years old on the night her older brother died. Even as she watched her parents embark on a mission to keep his memory alive — often traveling to speaking engagements and trials — she noted that they never missed her countless flag football games or cheerleading performances. Eventually, she found herself drawn into their advocacy.

“My parents are such a force in the community. People look up to them,” she said. “It definitely influenced all the decisions in my life.”

A few weeks ago, her parents traveled to Washington, D.C., to watch her graduate from Howard University. She accepted a job with a political action committee, where she said she hopes to work in the city and find her own footing in the political world.

Deanna Joseph’s eyes glimmer when she thinks about her daughter.

“It is the hardest thing to have to visit your child at the graveyard ... but it was the most beautiful thing to see a child manifest and matriculate through their academic studies and do it with such high standards,” she said.

Now, Deanna Joseph finds herself alone, activism briefly paused. She fills hours with meditation, journaling and therapy, still working to manage her grief. She turns to the same network of families she once supported through their difficult times.

“I do know that is my responsibility to keep the mission and the work going forward,” she said. “I’m committed to doing that, because so much has been built in the essence of my son, and now my husband.”

As she has for the past 12 years, Deanna Joseph will continue to wait — for an appellate ruling, for new legal precedent, for the justice she says her “two Andrews” never saw.

She will wait, but she will not rest.

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