We Trusted Methodist—And Our Children Paid the Price

“Trust the doctors. Trust the hospital. Let the professionals handle it.”

That is what every parent is told in a medical crisis.

And that is exactly what we did.

We brought our children to the emergency rooms at Methodist Southlake and Methodist Charlton—hospitals under the same network—expecting trained eyes, clear protocols, and sound medical judgment.

Instead, the abnormalities in their labs, vital signs, and obvious warning signs were never addressed. We did not know that at the time, of course. We were sent home, reassured. But our sons were in septic shock, and their bodies were shutting down.

My son, Nicholas Mata, survived.

Darren Stanley Jr. did not.

And now, more families are coming forward. This is not just our story anymore.

Same System. Feels Like the Same Pattern.

Nicholas was seen twice at Methodist Southlake.

At the first visit, he tested positive for the flu. We accepted the diagnosis and followed instructions. It seemed reasonable at the time.

But days later, he initially started to feel better—then everything changed. Nicholas suddenly got worse. Much worse. He could not walk without help. He was vomiting constantly. He looked pale, weak, and dizzy. This was no longer the flu.

We brought him back to Methodist. Why? Because we trusted them.

He had clearly regressed. But we were told it was just a virus.

That he would be fine.

They gave him a short IV. Ran minimal labs. What we did not know then—but know now—is that those labs were abnormal. The EKG was abnormal. His vital signs pointed to severe illness, and we were never informed about any of it.

But they still sent us home.

By Christmas morning, Nicholas was cold, gray, and barely able to move. His blood pressure was unreadable. We bypassed Methodist altogether and rushed to Cook Children’s. There, he was immediately diagnosed with septic shock.

He spent 34 days in the hospital, underwent several surgeries, and now lives with long-term damage to his joints, kidneys, and blood pressure regulation.

But he lived.

Darren’s Story Followed the Same Pattern—But Ended in Tragedy

Darren Stanley Jr. was a 22-year-old father, healthy, active, and full of life. He went to the ER at Methodist Charlton with a splitting headache, high fever, and discolored nasal drainage. These are textbook signs of a potentially life-threatening infection. He was diagnosed with a migraine and sent home.

He got worse. Five days later, he returned to the same ER with worsening symptoms, more pain, and now with visible swelling in his eyes. He could barely see.  His chart showed elevated sepsis risk.

Still, he was sent home again. Same diagnosis. Same failure to act. His family was not told about the seriousness of his condition.

His mother, Tatasha, knew something was very wrong. She told him, “If you’re not better by morning, I’m taking you somewhere else.” And she did. They went to Baylor University Medical Center.

There, doctors ran tests. They immediately diagnosed invasive bacterial sinusitis, fulminant bacterial meningitis, cavernous sinus thrombosis, altered mental status, and septic shock.

These are life-threatening conditions. And they had been brewing in Darren for days.

By then, it was too late.

Darren was admitted and died the next day.

Tatasha did everything she was supposed to do. She trusted the process. She followed the instructions. She brought him back when he got worse. And her son died anyway.

Let this sink in: both boys just needed timely antibiotics. That is all it would have taken to change their outcomes. One thorough sepsis evaluation could have changed everything.

The Hospitals Had Protocols—They Just Did Not Follow Them

This is not speculation or finger-pointing. A federal investigation into Nicholas’s care found that Methodist Southlake “failed to recognize and treat sepsis and inappropriately discharged” him.

Independent medical experts confirmed the hospital breached the standard of care.

These hospitals have sepsis policies—checklists, clinical pathways, and evidence-based procedures. But in our sons’ cases, it does not appear those pathways were followed.

This does not feel like healthcare. This feels like a profit-driven conveyor belt. And it is hurting people.

We Are Not Alone And That Is the Most Alarming Part

Since our stories were published, we have been flooded with messages. More families. More near-misses. More devastating losses.

Children and adults misdiagnosed. No labs. No sepsis workups. Sent home while their infections raged inside them. And all of them told the same thing we were told:

“Trust us. You’re fine. Go home.”

Too many people trusted Methodist. Too many were failed.

Based on the stories we are hearing from other families, it appears there may be a repeating pattern across multiple campuses, affecting patients who did exactly what they were told to do.

We are documenting those stories now.

They will not be ignored.

This Is Bigger Than Us

Yes, we have filed lawsuits. But that is not where this ends. It is where it starts.

We are pushing for legislation in Texas that mandates sepsis protocols in emergency rooms, like Rory’s Law in New York. This is not radical. This is basic safety. It ensures that when a patient shows sepsis symptoms, hospitals cannot dismiss or shortcut care.

Because no family should have to rely on luck to survive a medical emergency. And no parent should have to save their child from the hospital.

Nicholas survived.

Darren did not.

But both were failed.

Final Thought: Trust Is Earned Through Action—Not PR.

We didn’t ask for perfection.

We asked for competent, honest care.

Instead, we were given reassurances while our children deteriorated.

We were sent home when action was needed.

We were left to save them ourselves.

And when the truth came out—confirmed by federal investigators and independent experts—Methodist chose silence, secrecy, and obstruction.

That’s not safety.

That’s not integrity.

That’s not trust.

Hospitals tell you who they are by how they respond when they fail.

Methodist has told us everything.

Believe them.

Darren

Nicholas