I'm worried about Tyra Johnson's family in a way I've never worried about a source before.

I met Johnson, a single mom of three kids, two years ago. The pandemic had turned their lives upside down, like it did for millions of others: Johnson lost her job, and the kids missed more than a year of in-person schooling. Making her situation worse, her job had paid little more than minimum wage to begin with, and she and her kids live in a poor, high-crime area of St. Louis.

I was drawn to Johnson's optimistic, cheerful personality and her devotion to her kids. I've written stories about her experiences during the pandemic, and am working on a documentary about them. Since I've known her, she's worked relentlessly, trying to provide a better life for her family.

Her current situation is the most precarious one I've seen her in yet.

When I spoke to her a few weeks ago, Johnson had been ecstatic about getting a job at the Walmart in Granite City, Illinois. The wage ($19 per hour) was more than she'd ever made, and the benefits included a program to help her get her GED. This could be the opportunity that would change her and her children's lives, she said.

But now, she's struggling to get to and from that opportunity.

About a month ago, her car -- a 14-year-old Pontiac G6 with more than 270,000 miles on it -- broke down. She managed to get it repaired, but then it was stolen.

Johnson doesn't have extra money for a car down payment, or the credit to apply for a loan. She texted me, asking if I knew anyone selling a cheap used car she could make payments on.

For now, she takes the bus to Walmart -- two hours each way -- for her overnight shift. But what is she supposed to do with her kids, ages 2, 6 and 8? She found a 24-hour daycare in St. Louis that offers subsidized care, but getting the kids there using public transportation would take multiple bus stops and another two hours. Then after working all night, it would take another several hours to pick up her children and get back home.

There aren't enough hours in a day for this -- even without accounting for a human's need to sleep and eat. As it is, Johnson is barely sleeping a couple of hours at a stretch because she has to take care of her kids after her overnight shift.

For the time being, she's relying on her mom, who works at a gas station during the day, to watch her children overnight while she navigates the buses. It's not tenable for either of them.

This bleak situation got even worse a couple of weeks ago: Johnson's older brother was murdered in St. Louis.

She texted me to ask for a ride to the funeral, but there was no way I could make it in time.

She hasn't really had a chance to grieve the loss because she's been dealing with a traffic ticket she got for driving without a license. The judge told her to get her license and have the ticket dismissed, but she hasn't been able to do so without a car.

Earlier this week, she asked if I could give her a ride to court so she could ask the judge for an extension. She feared that if she missed the court date, they could put out a warrant for her arrest.

I knew that if Johnson ended up in jail for a traffic violation, it would ruin more than just her life. I don't know what would become of her sweet children.

I was able to drive her to court, but she had no one to watch her children while we went. Her mom was at work. We couldn't bring the kids with us because the baby's car seat was in the stolen car.

Finally, a cousin offered to stay with the kids for an hour. Johnson got into my car more upset than I've ever seen her.

"I need transportation. I need daycare. I can't do this anymore," she said.

Even in the worst days of the pandemic, when she was selling lemonade in a park to pay her bills, I've never seen her so discouraged.

She's put her name on a list for a charity that helps single mothers find used cars. It's a long list. She's asked parishioners at her church if anyone has a spare vehicle. She's asked a friend if he will cosign a car loan with her.

While we drove to the courthouse, Johnson called her father, who had been in town for his son's funeral.

He told her to keep her head up.

She cried softly and told him she would.

In the post-Roe era, parents need to consider and discuss what to do in various scenarios in order to protect their kids -- especially if they live in a prohibition state that bans abortion.

Children, adolescents and teenagers all face legal risks in these states, regardless of whether they are sexually active yet.

Sexual assault can result in pregnancy. In addition to teaching young people how to guard their personal safety, it's also important to talk about what to do if someone assaults them and puts them at risk for an unwanted pregnancy.

Open and honest conversations about birth control are critical, said Julie Lynn, spokeswoman for Planned Parenthood of the St. Louis Region and Southwest Missouri. Even if a young person is not facing an unwanted pregnancy, one of their friends may turn to them for help in a moment of crisis.

Emergency contraception, commonly known as Plan B, is a single pill that should be taken within 72 hours after unprotected sex. It is not an abortion pill. It does not require a prescription. It prevents pregnancy in a majority of cases by preventing the ovaries from releasing an egg or stopping sperm from fertilizing an egg.

Plan B can be purchased at pharmacies and online. A single dose costs $17 on hellowisp.com; at local pharmacies, the cost is usually around $50. Other emergency contraceptive brands include Next Choice One Dose, Aftera and EContra One-Step. All of these options are still legal in every state.

Women have been stocking up on this over-the-counter medication. Given that the medicine is time-sensitive, it makes sense to have a supply on hand.

Another emergency contraceptive, known as Ella, is more effective than Plan B and can be taken up to five days after unprotected sex. However, it does require a prescription from a nurse or doctor. It is possible to get a prescription after an online consultation. In most states, emergency contraception can be obtained through the Planned Parenthood Direct app, or online from Nurx.com or PRJKTRUBY.com.

Whichever emergency contraceptive you take, if you don't get your period within three weeks, take a pregnancy test to be sure it worked.

A longer-term contraception option is an IUD, which can prevent pregnancy for several years -- as few as five years or as many as 12, depending on the type. The device is inserted into the uterus by a doctor.

"More people have been calling and looking to our health center for IUDs" in the weeks since abortion was banned in Missouri, said Lynn.

Reproductive rights and privacy organizations are advising people to be much more careful with their digital footprints. This is especially important in prohibition states like Missouri, and with younger people, who default to communicating digitally with one another.

It's vital to use secure communications when discussing or researching the need for abortion care. Using an encrypted messaging app like Signal offers more privacy protection, as well as the option for messages to be automatically deleted after a set time. Other recommendations include using a privacy-minded search engine, such as DuckDuckGo, instead of Google when looking for information. Downloading a virtual private network, or VPN, protects a person's browsing history.

There are a patchwork of laws regulating abortion and reproductive rights that vary by state. Some interpretations of legal risks and liabilities are still being sorted out.

However, it's important for young people to know their rights. There are still several states where the right to an abortion is protected by law. Check abortionfinder.org to locate the nearest place to get one.

"If you are a patient in Springfield, Missouri, or Austin, Texas, you will still need to travel," Lynn said. "It's just a matter of how many hundreds of miles."

A well-respected leadership camp for teenagers recently gave Republicans a platform to spread election lies to 800 Missouri boys.

“This country is in the middle of a civil war right now,” St. Louis attorney Mark McCloskey declared from the stage during a GOP candidates forum at Missouri Boys State, a weeklong camp designed to teach students how the government functions.

In fairness to the Missouri Boys State organization, they invited all the candidates seeking the state’s next Senate seat to speak to the students, who were selected from around the state. They asked a respected local journalist, political correspondent Jason Rosenbaum of St. Louis Public Radio, to moderate the forum with the four Republican candidates who chose to attend.

“We take pride in being a nonpartisan, pro-democracy organization,” said director Brad Lear.

Since my son was attending the camp, I checked out the livestream for the event. I was surprised to hear speakers undermining the institutions and values Boys State was created to uphold.

When they were asked who won the 2020 presidential election, McCloskey said, “I don’t know who won the last election, but I know who didn’t -- that’s Joe Biden.”

U.S. Rep. Vicky Hartzler, who was among the 147 Republicans who voted to overturn the election results, said “we will never know” who won because of “irregularities.” She referenced a debunked and discredited film, claiming people improperly stuffed ballot boxes. U.S. Rep. Billy Long rambled about how changes in state laws meant “the election was wrong.”

Even Senate President Pro Tem Dave Schatz, who focused most of his response on election integrity, also cast doubt on the 2020 election by saying there were “irregularities” that need to be addressed.

The truth is that there was no evidence of systemic voter fraud in any U.S. state during the 2020 presidential election, according to dozens of judicial rulings, cybersecurity experts and election officials.

The election was valid, and Joe Biden won. That is not a partisan statement. It’s a fact -- even if you don’t like it.

During that forum, I listened to plenty of hyper-partisan rhetoric, on issues like gun safety and abortion, that I didn’t like. While I may disagree with those beliefs, I see the value in future voters hearing candidates state their positions.

But Boys State missed a critical opportunity to stand up for the democratic ideals it seeks to promote by letting the Big Lie go unchallenged that night.

Lear said the educational programming the rest of the week focused on protecting and preserving democracy, and provided a context for students to evaluate the statements made during the forum. He added that management of the forum was deferred to Rosenbaum, a job that involved making “hard judgment calls.”

Rosenbaum said his duties as moderator were to come up with questions, make sure the participants stuck to their allotted time and didn’t interrupt or attack one another. There weren’t clear guidelines on how follow-up questions, which may have challenged some of the false claims, would impact the other candidates’ allotted time, he said.

Given that violent political rhetoric and disinformation are now part of the public discourse, this is a situation that ought to have been anticipated. Allowing these lies to spread has real-life consequences.

Consider the heartbreaking testimony from former Fulton County (Georgia) election worker Shaye Moss and her mother, Ruby Freeman, during the Jan. 6 commission hearings. They were falsely accused of election fraud by Trump officials, their reputations smeared with lies. They faced an onslaught of threats and hateful messages. The FBI advised Freeman to leave her home for two months.

Innocent people, participating in the very democratic process Boys State is trying to promote, were threatened and run out of their homes because of the same election lies shared at the forum.

In chilling sworn testimony before the Jan. 6 committee, members of Trump’s own administration -- and family -- have debunked the Big Lie. Arizona House Speaker Rusty Bowers, a lifelong Republican, choked up describing the pressure Trump officials put on him to overturn his state’s results and betray his oath to uphold the Constitution.

Not a single Republican Senate candidate from Missouri has indicated that they would have the integrity to resist that kind of political pressure.

Unlike McCloskey’s claim about a civil war, there actually is a calculated war on truth in this country. Our young people deserve better than lies and cynicism designed to undermine our country’s entire foundation.

There could have been an opportunity to speak truth to power at that forum.

But no one was there to say it.