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Father sets ‘journey for justice’ for son

By CHUCK BALLARO 4 min read
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Don and Kelly Izzo, who lost their 15-year-old son Donté to suicide, are working to call awareness to the lack of support they say their son received when he reached out for help, as well as  to draw attention to the issue of teen suicide. PHOTO PROVIDED
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Beginning Sept. 1, Don Izzo will bike ride from Tampa along the coast near I-10, all the way to Corpus Christi, Texas, before making another bike ride from there to Reno, Neveda, in a “journey for justice” for his son, who he says called a suicide hotline before taking his life. PHOTO PROVIDED

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When you walk into the home of Don and Kelly Izzo at Buccaneer Estates, the thing you notice most is the large amount of memorabilia from their son Donté.

There are pictures, artwork that he drew and many other items from his life, a life that ended far too early.

Starting next week, on Sept. 1, Don Izzo is going to take a long bike ride to bring attention to his son’s life and, more importantly, the lack of support he said he got before he took his own life in 2017, as those people who were there to try to help Donté, in the Izzos’ minds, let him down.

Izzo will start his ride in Tampa and ride along the coast near I-10, all the way to Corpus Christi, Texas before making another bike ride from there to Reno, Neveda.

While en route, Izzo will talk about his experiences, read excerpts from a book he and his wife wrote about his son, “The Alienation of Donté Izzo,” and bring attention to teen suicide and what it did to their family.

The destination was not a random decision, but to where Izzo said the people who were tasked to help Donté failed him.

“This is not a race or a fundraiser, but a journey for justice. I chose Sept. 1 because it’s the first day of Suicide Prevention and Awareness Month,” Izzo said. “I will be livestreaming myself and promoting my book that me and my wife have written about the son we lost.”

The Izzos were living in Bangor, Maine, at the time.

Donté, an only child, was an honor student, played football, ran cross country, participated in many activities and was never a problem at school, said Don, a disabled veteran who worked in the Department of Veterans Affairs.

But unbeknownst to anyone, Donté had been communicating with a white supremacist group, students who posted racist, xenophobic memes and hate speech, and one student who encouraged him to resort to “self-induced annihilation.”

“We found other undignified behavior on Instagram, Snapchat, that proves my son was bullied, ostracized, shunned and made to feel insignificant,” Don said. “He was bullied online and face to face, and it was more psychological than physical.”

The Izzos said Donté reached out for help through the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline and was routed to a crisis call center in Reno, Nev., which they found to be bizarre.

“He spoke with two people and spoke in high-risk language. He stated he wanted to kill himself by hanging if he couldn’t get a gun. He told them he was 15 years old and they did absolutely nothing,” Don said. “They told nobody, completely against the policies and protocols of their entity.”

Donté took his life on March 6, 2017 at age 15, by self-inflicted asphyxiation.

“I was doing on-the-job training and this happened while I was away. It damn near killed me and my wife. Kelly was hospitalized six months ago and nearly died from a broken heart,” Don said. “Kelly, who worked for the Red Cross, discovered our son. Neither one of us was able to work after that.”

Don later found out that had he not sent his son’s phone to a recovery data specialist, he never would have known he had reached out for help.

Don said he went off the deep end because his son didn’t have to die.

Six months ago, both became reinvigorated enough to return to society, writing a book about their experiences and raise awareness and dispel the myths surrounding teen suicide.

But that hasn’t made the death of their son any less painful.

The Izzos tried to speak with the police, the school principal, superintendent and school board in Bangor, those in charge of the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, even to a U.S. Senator, to no avail.

Izzo said he wants to rattle the cage and hold those who didn’t help his son accountable.

“I will never know what it’s like to have grandchildren, or see my son graduate college. My bloodline is now severed,” Don said. “There are injustices here that are insurmountable. I feel that I need to do something so the public or the people in need, know just what exactly the leadership of their town and what they have in place in services for the help of troubled people. There are too many young people removing themselves from existence.”