Our story began in 2005 with a baby boy named Ian.

He was the best baby a new mom could ask for. Even though he arrived four weeks early, he fed easily and slept through the night by the time he was a month old. He was happy, healthy, and just the easiest baby.

Ian crawled, walked, and reached all milestones as expected until he was around two and half years old. It was then we became concerned that he wasn't yet talking beyond baby babble. He wasn't forming words or sentences and had difficulty maintaining eye contact. When something did have his attention though, he'd fixate on it for days, playing with the same toy repetitively or replaying the same cartoon episode dozens of times.

He was evaluated by a developmental pediatrician when he was three and was diagnosed with pervasive developmental disorder, not otherwise specified, or PDD NOS. (It is no longer a standalone diagnosis and now falls under the autism spectrum disorder, ASD, umbrella.)

Thanks to a wonderful team of therapists and teachers, Ian's speech caught up to his peers just as he turned five. (He hasn't stopped talking since!) It doesn't escape us how lucky we are, there are parents who'd give anything to hear their child speak one word.

But he was not without many challenges. He needed one-on-one assistance to learn in a classroom setting. His test questions were read out loud to him and he was allotted extra time to take them. His classroom size was capped at 12 students.

Socially, he doesn't understand sarcasm, inferences, or figures of speech. He interprets everything said to him at face value and will correct you if you're wrong. (Don't you dare say it's 1:15 if it's 1:14!) He will argue until he is blue in the face if he thinks he's right. He will say exactly what is on his mind, which can lead to hurt feelings (Don't ask him how you look, he will tell you the truth!)

He had difficulty keeping friends as other students would get annoyed with his quirks. His IEP directed that he receive speech therapy and social work sessions to learn how to better communicate and relate to his peers, which helped, but many of these traits are ingrained in who he is and how his brain works.

Behaviorally, loud noise flusters him and unplanned changes to his routine can derail his entire day. He clenches his fists and erratically places them near his ears when he's upset. When he fixates on a problem, there is absolutely no diverting his attention until it is solved. He once barged into the principal's office and demanded that the school be evacuated during a bad thunderstorm. There was no reasoning with him to go back to class, so she gave him a hard-hat to wear and let him sit in the office until the storm passed. For years, the noise of the cafeteria overwhelmed him, so he ate lunch alone in the guidance office by choice.

All Grown Up.

But he also graduated high school with honors. He has a full time job. He's made many friends in the online gaming community. His coworkers like him and are kind to him. His performance at work is excellent because he follows absolutely everything by the book. He manages his own bank account and pays his own cell phone bill. He can do his own laundry (although he tries to rope me into it) and cooks for himself.

One day, he told me he wanted to get his driver's license and was saving to buy himself a Tesla in cash. (Did I mention once he fixates on something, trying to talk him out of it is pointless?)

Now, I don't know that his $15 an hour job will support his Tesla cash goals, but at 18 years old, there was little I could do to stop him from pursuing his license. I found myself facing the dilemma between encouraging his independence- which he will need as I won't live forever- and the very real concerns for a neurodivergent person navigating today's world.

Up until then, Ian was surrounded by people who knew him and knew how to at least try to engage him as he is. Home, school, work, he was surrounded by the same people every day. But putting him behind the wheel?

Panic set in.

• Could he drive defensively?

• Could he give up his right of way to avoid a collision or would his "by the book" brain prevail if someone else is breaking a traffic rule?

• If he was in an accident or stopped by the police, could he follow the officer's instructions without arguing?

• Could he advocate for himself and say "Please give me one instruction at a time so I understand."?

• Would the officer interpret his behavior as being uncooperative?

• If the officer raised his voice, would Ian suddenly move his fists to his ears?

• Would that sudden movement prompt a physical altercation with the officer....or worse?

Could this behavior that is typical for people who know Ian, but foreign to this officer, who is a stranger, be perceived as a threat and result in this interaction going very, very wrong?

The wheels started turning.

I reached out to a police officer friend and asked:

"If I make Ian a card to keep with his license that alerts the reader that he is autistic, highlights some behaviors they may expect, and provides my contact info, would a police officer take the time to read it if it is handed to them with the license?"

I hoped for a "yes" response. But...

His response was overwhelmingly positive:

"Absolutely! I think that's amazing! I think you covered everything you possibly can. You could also keep a second card with his registration and insurance. That way everything is together in case of an accident. And anytime he has to provide ID, he'll have it either on him or in the car and it will be easier for the officer to understand and communicate better with him. I think you have the right idea. I wish more people were like you. I totally get it, as a parent I'd be a little worried too, but I think having a card with him all the time is a fantastic idea."

Then I thought...Shouldn't something like this be available to anyone who needs it? Not just for autism, but anyone who may have trouble communicating? Or those who may become lost?

My mind wandered back to when Ian was 7 and his afterschool bus arrived 15 minutes early before I was there to pick him up. The driver let him and another student off the bus without an adult, and drove away knowing he was early, and knowing that both boys were special ed students. When I arrived and the bus didn't, and my son was no where to be found, I was frantic. The other boy's mom was frantic. Long story short, it turned out ok, they ended up walking and I found both of them in the backyard, but for 22 minutes, I had no idea where my child was. It was 22 minutes of knowing that anyone could have easily taken him. It's a scary situation for any parent, but it's magnified when the child is developmentally behind his peers. For 22 minutes, I prayed a passerby found him and took him to the police.

My point is, unpredictable events can happen at any age. The things you worry about change of course, he's close to 6 feet tall now, no one is snatching him, but then again, I didn't worry about encounters with police when he was 7.

Another police officer friend also praised the concept and additionally noted that it often takes many hours to track down the identity and emergency contact for dementia patients and other wanderers and that he welcomed a tool that would give him this info in seconds.

There needed to be a tool that could work for communication barriers at any age....a lost child, an adult in crisis, an elderly wanderer.

Shouldn't they have a tool that helps say what they can't?

Such a tool would need to be simple to use, convey information quickly, be accessible, easy to update or replace, and be affordable.

You don't know what you don't know, ya know?

And so began countless hours of research into the practicality of the idea and the KnowID was born. A customized and affordable solution that gives each individual a way of saying "This is me!" to those who need to know, when they need to know.

The process of building this product was eye-opening. The KnowID is a tool to equip our most vulnerable neighbors, but a tool is only as useful as its practical use by its audience.

Our research found that the training provided to first responders in mental health crisis intervention to be inconsistent at best. While there has been more emphasis on training in recent years, the extent and quality varies greatly at the state, city, and even departmental level. Many first responders still receive inadequate training to effectively de-escalate situations involving special needs or mental health crises.

Some states mandate significant training, others mandate little to none. Available funding for training and access to mental health professionals and community support systems varies significantly zip code to zip code and can influence the quality and depth of training.

Because of gaps in training and funding, concerns persist about the disproportionate use of force against individuals with special needs or mental illness.

In a perfect world, there would be highly trained, fully funded, crisis intervention teams and less reliance on police and other first responders to take on a role which they are not equipped to do by design.

But until then, we are committed to spreading awareness, encouraging first responders and the public to work together, and donating to initiatives that provide training.

In the meantime, we hope the KnowID can be part of the solution.

Our story.