Losing Isaiah

In the stark, rain‑slick neighborhoods of an unnamed American city, life moves to the uneasy rhythm of survival and hope. The streets pulse with a raw realism that never shies away from the darkness of addiction, yet it also reveals moments of unexpected tenderness. Within this world, the line between loss and redemption feels perpetually thin, inviting the audience to breathe in the weight of each character’s choices.

Khaila Richards is a single mother whose battle with crack cocaine has already torn her world apart. In a desperate, fragmented moment, she entrusts her newborn son to an alley, believing she will return. The act leaves a lingering ache that haunts her, propelling her onto a painful road of rehab, self‑reflection, and the fragile promise of sobriety. Though her past decisions cast a long shadow, Khaila’s yearning to reclaim her role as a mother remains a quiet, driving force beneath the surface.

Margaret Lewin, a social worker with a calm, methodical demeanor, discovers the abandoned infant and, along with her husband Charles and their daughter, opens their home to the child. Their modest suburban house becomes a sanctuary where the boy—named Isaiah—is nurtured with stability and affection that contrast sharply with the chaos of his origin. The Lewins’ compassion is underscored by an unspoken awareness of cultural and racial differences that shape how each of them perceives parenthood and responsibility.

When sober Khaila learns that her son has been raised by the Lewins, the discovery ignites a tense, emotionally charged confrontation that forces all three adults to examine what it truly means to be a mother. The film hovers between the stark realities of addiction and the delicate, sometimes conflicting, bonds that define family, setting the stage for a nuanced exploration of love, identity, and the right to belonging.

Last Updated: November 25, 2025 at 15:13