Carol Erskine, a former judge, along with the adoptive parents of Harmony Montgomery’s brother, are petitioning the FBI to launch a federal investigation into DCYF (Division for Children, Youth and Families). Despite numerous reports and urgent concerns raised by family members, DCYF determined that Harmony was safe in the custody of her father.

Just weeks after being placed with him, Harmony was murdered. Her father, Adam Montgomery — a convicted criminal — is now serving a life sentence for her killing. He and his partner concealed Harmony’s body in multiple places, including a freezer and the loft area of a homeless shelter.

If those responsible for overseeing Harmony’s case had done their jobs properly, they would have seen the clear signs of neglect and danger. The family was living without electricity, relying on a generator, and were eventually evicted, forced to live in a car. It was during this period of extreme instability that Adam lost his temper — as he had done many times before — and beat Harmony. This time, the abuse took her life.

While Adam’s conviction was a necessary step toward justice, it cannot be where this ends. Harmony’s body still hasn’t been recovered, and those within DCYF who failed her must be held accountable.

Systemic change is not optional — it is urgent. The policies, oversight, and accountability within DCYF must be overhauled to ensure no other child is lost due to negligence and inaction. Justice for Harmony means making sure this never happens again

The heartbreaking case of Harmony Montgomery continues to cast a long shadow over the child welfare system in New Hampshire. Despite public outrage and a life sentence handed down to her father, Adam Montgomery, those closest to Harmony—and to the broader issues her death represents—are demanding that the pursuit of justice not stop there. Former judge Carol Erskine and the adoptive parents of Harmony’s younger brother are leading a petition for the FBI to launch a federal investigation into DCYF, the Division for Children, Youth and Families, whose decisions may have cost Harmony her life.

This call for federal intervention follows years of ignored warnings and systemic breakdowns. DCYF had numerous opportunities to protect Harmony. Family members raised red flags repeatedly, reporting their concerns about her father’s fitness as a guardian. Adam Montgomery, a man with a violent criminal record and a documented history of substance abuse and domestic violence, was ultimately granted custody. Inexplicably, despite his background and the increasingly unstable circumstances of the household, DCYF continued to insist Harmony was safe.

She wasn’t.

Within weeks of being placed in her father’s care, Harmony was murdered. The abuse she endured at Adam’s hands was neither new nor hidden. According to court documents and testimony, he had struck Harmony in the face, left her with a black eye, and made her stand in a corner for hours as punishment. Her injuries were visible. Her cries for help were heard by others. And yet, the agencies designed to protect her looked away.

After her death, Adam and his partner went to disturbing lengths to conceal the crime. Harmony’s body was hidden in a variety of places—wrapped in trash bags, stored in a cooler, and eventually placed in a freezer. At one point, they stashed her remains in the ceiling of a homeless shelter. By the time authorities realized she was missing, her body had already been moved multiple times, and the opportunity to recover her and provide a proper burial had vanished.

To this day, Harmony’s remains have not been found.

What compounds this tragedy is that the signs of danger were not subtle. The Montgomery family was living in extreme poverty—without electricity, relying on a generator to keep their home somewhat functional. They were eventually evicted and forced to live in their car. It was during this period of severe instability that Adam Montgomery’s anger reached a boiling point. Harmony, like many children before her who have fallen through the cracks of the system, became the ultimate victim of unchecked violence and institutional neglect.

The petition for a federal investigation isn’t just about assigning blame—it’s about creating a system where such failure is impossible to ignore. Those advocating for this deeper level of accountability argue that the state cannot be trusted to investigate itself. The same agency that failed Harmony cannot be the sole authority in reviewing what went wrong. Only an external, impartial investigation can reveal the full extent of the missteps, cover-ups, and policy flaws that led to this tragedy.

Carol Erskine, a retired judge with years of experience in juvenile court, is not alone in her belief that DCYF must be held to account. “The failure here is not just personal—it’s systemic,” she said in a recent interview. “Harmony’s case represents the very worst of what happens when bureaucracy outweighs compassion, and when red tape strangles the ability to act.”

Many in the public agree. The idea that a known abuser with no job, no stable housing, and a violent past could be entrusted with a vulnerable child defies common sense. But this wasn’t just a failure of judgment—it was a failure of responsibility. The agency charged with protecting children prioritized procedure over protection, documentation over safety. Harmony’s life was reduced to a series of case notes, passed between social workers, and eventually lost in the shuffle.

Adam Montgomery’s conviction may provide a sense of closure in the narrowest legal sense, but for Harmony’s surviving family, advocates, and the growing number of supporters calling for reform, it is not enough. True justice means changing the system that allowed this to happen in the first place.

This case has already prompted some policy discussions at the state level, but those pushing for a federal investigation argue that minor reforms are not sufficient. They want a full audit of DCYF operations, training, and decision-making processes. They want whistleblower protections for those inside the agency who may have tried—and failed—to sound the alarm. And most of all, they want accountability. Real accountability. Not just a press conference. Not just a resignation. But concrete consequences for the decisions and oversights that led to the death of an innocent child.

The ripple effect of Harmony’s death is wide. Children in the system today are watching. So are the thousands of foster parents, social workers, and judges who care deeply about the well-being of children but are often overwhelmed, under-resourced, or silenced by bureaucracy. Harmony’s story is a tragic reminder that behind every policy failure is a life forever altered—or lost.

For the adoptive parents of Harmony’s younger brother, this is personal. They are raising a child who will one day grow up with questions about what happened to his sister. They are advocating not just for reform, but for truth—for an honest, unflinching look at how a system meant to protect children became complicit in harming them.

As the petition for an FBI investigation continues to gather support, the hope is that Harmony’s name won’t just be a symbol of tragedy, but a turning point. A moment when the system that failed her is finally forced to change. A moment when silence is no longer an option, and when institutional failure is met with public reckoning.

Harmony Montgomery should be alive today. She should be starting a new school year, playing outside, dreaming about her future. Instead, she is a reminder of what happens when warnings are ignored and vulnerable children are treated like case numbers rather than human beings.

Justice for Harmony means more than punishing her killer. It means ensuring no other child suffers the same fate. It means changing the system that looked the other way.

And until that happens, there will be no peace—only a growing demand for answers, accountability, and lasting reform.