On a late November night in 2025, a video from Dallas Regional Medical Center began circulating online, igniting outrage and sorrow in equal measure. The footage showed Karrie Jones, a pregnant Black woman, writhing in pain in a wheelchair. Instead of receiving prompt medical attention, Jones was met with a barrage of questions from a triage nurse, who seemed more intent on filling out paperwork than alleviating her suffering. "When is your due date?" the nurse asked, her back turned to Jones. "Right now," Jones replied, her discomfort plain for all to see. Twelve minutes after the video ended, Jones gave birth—alone, unsupported, and still in pain. According to reporting by ProPublica, this harrowing episode is not an isolated incident but a chilling reflection of the systemic medical neglect and racism that many pregnant Black women face in American hospitals.
The story of Karrie Jones is just one in a series of tragedies that have come to light in recent years. Another case, that of Mercedes Wells, similarly captured on video, showed a pregnant Black woman crying out in agony and seemingly ignored by hospital staff. These stories have become emblematic of a broader crisis—one in which Black women, already at heightened risk for complications during pregnancy, are routinely dismissed, neglected, or subjected to inadequate care. The consequences can be deadly.
If the case of Karrie Jones exposed the cold indifference of hospital protocols, the experience of Tierra Walker, a 37-year-old dental assistant from San Antonio, revealed the lethal consequences of abortion bans that lack meaningful health exceptions. As reported by ProPublica, Walker’s ordeal began when she learned she was pregnant in late 2024. Already struggling with uncontrolled blood pressure, diabetes, and a history of preeclampsia—a dangerous pregnancy complication—Walker knew she was at high risk. Her fears were not unfounded. Just a few years earlier, preeclampsia had led to the stillbirth of her twins.
By October 14, 2024, Walker had endured weeks of unexplained seizures and repeated hospitalizations. Fearing for her life and the future of her 14-year-old son, JJ, she asked her doctor at Methodist Hospital Northeast whether it would be safer for her to terminate the pregnancy. "Wouldn't you think it would be better for me to not have the baby?" she asked, according to her aunt. The answer was chillingly bureaucratic: there was "no emergency"—nothing wrong with the pregnancy itself, only with Walker's health. As ProPublica detailed, more than 90 doctors were involved in Walker’s care, yet none offered her the option of an abortion, even as her condition worsened and her medical records described her as at "high risk of clinical deterioration and/or death."
Walker's case is not an outlier. It unfolded during a period of intense debate over abortion rights in the United States, especially in states like Texas, where sweeping bans have left patients with chronic conditions and high-risk pregnancies with few options. ProPublica's investigation found that, in states with abortion bans, doctors and hospitals are often paralyzed by fear of criminal charges. As a result, women like Walker are left to gamble with their lives. The reporting revealed that five women—three in Texas alone—died after being denied standard reproductive care under these restrictive laws.
Medical experts who reviewed Walker’s case for ProPublica were unanimous: with her persistently high blood pressure, she should have been counseled about the serious risks of continuing her pregnancy and offered termination as a standard medical practice. Dr. Jennifer Lewey, director of the Penn Women’s Cardiovascular Health Program, put it bluntly: "If I’m seeing a patient in her first trimester and her blood pressure is this uncontrolled—never mind anything else—what I’m talking about is: Your pregnancy will be so high risk, do we need to think about terminating the pregnancy and getting your health under control?"
Yet, under Texas law, the only exception to the abortion ban is for "life-threatening" emergencies. Even then, the law is so vaguely written and the threat of prosecution so real that most doctors avoid even discussing the option. One OB-GYN told ProPublica, "Some people were not because of their personal beliefs, and some because they didn’t want to be involved in any kind of potential legal actions." The chilling effect is palpable: in practice, few hospitals grant health exceptions, and many women are left to suffer—or worse.
Walker’s health continued to deteriorate. At 12 weeks pregnant, she developed a blood clot in her leg, a new and potentially fatal complication. Still, no one counseled her on the option of terminating the pregnancy. At 20 weeks, on December 27, 2024, she was finally diagnosed with preeclampsia at University Hospital, but rather than being admitted and monitored, she was sent home with medication. Three days later, on December 30, JJ found his mother unresponsive in her bed. An autopsy confirmed what she had feared all along: preeclampsia had killed her at 20 weeks pregnant.
The aftermath for Walker’s family has been devastating. Her son, JJ, now lives with his aunt, haunted by the memory of finding his mother and the knowledge that her death could have been prevented. Her husband, Eric Carson, struggled to understand why none of the more than 90 doctors involved in her care suggested ending the pregnancy to keep Walker safe. "She was doing what they told her to do," he said. "Nobody said nothing." Walker’s aunt, Latanya, was blunt: "They didn’t want to offer to end the pregnancy, because the government or someone says you can’t? So you’d rather let somebody die? Now we are the ones that have to suffer."
These tragedies are not just personal—they are political. Lawmakers who crafted the abortion bans have consistently refused to create exceptions for health risks, fearing such carve-outs would undermine the bans themselves. In Texas, a recent amendment to the law now allows for termination in "life-threatening" emergencies, but doctors and advocates say it remains too narrow to protect women like Walker. Only one of the 20 state senators who co-wrote the amendment, Carol Alvarado, responded to ProPublica’s inquiries. She said, "You can’t proclaim to be pro-life, but you’re passing laws that are endangering women and causing death. We have to allow for more exceptions."
The burden of these restrictive laws falls most heavily on Black women, who are already more likely to suffer from chronic health conditions, face discrimination in the medical system, and experience worse maternal outcomes. As experts have noted, cuts to Medicaid and changes to the Affordable Care Act are likely to exacerbate these disparities. In contrast, most European countries allow abortion for any reason in the first trimester and provide broad health exceptions thereafter—a stark difference from the narrow and punitive approach in much of the United States.
The stories of Karrie Jones, Tierra Walker, and Mercedes Wells serve as a sobering reminder that the consequences of medical neglect and restrictive abortion laws are not abstract—they are measured in lives lost, families shattered, and futures foreclosed. As the debate over reproductive rights continues to roil the nation, these women’s stories demand to be heard, remembered, and acted upon.