INDIANAPOLIS — Shay Roberson quickly typed the words into her phone. She knew she would never be able to say them out loud.

"Can you think about adopting me one day?" she asked via text. "I really want a mom."

The Indiana native's early dream of reuniting with her biological family had faded long before she aged out of the foster care system. Now, at 24 years old, Shay wondered if she might have another chance at a family.

Shay sent the text to Ginnie Wing, her former school resource officer. Wing, now the police chief of Brownsburg Community School Corp., was already Shay's safe place, her emotional support system and the person she never wanted to let down.

Shay wanted Wing to be more.

Shay looked at the text she had sent, and panicked. She quickly fired off another: "You don't have to respond just think about it."

'She was just a dope person'

Shay met Wing as a sixth-grader at East Middle School in Brownsburg.

It was the first time Shay had ever seen a female police officer. And the first time she'd met an officer she liked.

"My only interactions with police officers were always bad," Shay recalled, "so whether they were coming to my house or, you know, in my neighborhood or removing me from my parents."

Shay and two of her sisters entered the child welfare system in 2005, when Shay was 11 years old. Their mother was addicted to crack cocaine, Shay said.

She and her siblings bounced from home to home, mostly living with relatives. They'd return to their mother only to be removed again. And the family kept growing. Eventually, there were six of them in the child welfare system — Shay and five siblings.

A relative adopted Shay's siblings, but not her. She lived in nearly a dozen foster care placements in 10 years.

Shay's relationships with school officials represented the only constant in her life. A group of teachers, counselors and others supported her in and out of the classroom. They made signs and cheered during her basketball games. They attended her poetry club gatherings.

In the beginning, Wing mingled with Shay and other students during lunch in the cafeteria. She'd ask Shay if she was staying out of trouble. She'd talk about her love of children and her desire to have more.

"I just always thought she was pretty cool," Shay recalled. "I don’t know, she was just a dope person."

'Unsung hero'

Wing and Shay briefly lost touch when Shay moved to a foster home outside of the Brownsburg school district.

But soon Shay was back and, by the end of her junior year at Brownsburg High School, Shay was wandering into Wing's school office almost every day. She saw Wing as "heaven sent" and an "unsung hero" — someone who does a lot but doesn’t really get noticed.

Wing and other school officials could see Shay struggling. They made themselves available to the teen and rooted for her success.

Wing and Anna Coyne, a school counselor, threw Shay a graduation party and helped her move into her dorm room at Indiana University in Bloomington.

There was a parent meeting after the move-in.

"Are you guys going to stay?" Shay asked.

Wing said she and Coyne were trying to support Shay without overstepping. They told Shay they'd stay if she wanted them to. She did.

"You know they're all going to think you're my white moms," Shay said. "Come on!"

Wing laughed, remembering the conversation. "That's her way," Wing said. "She just pulls people in like that."

'She's hard not to love'

When neither of Shay's biological parents could attend IU’s Family Weekend because they were incarcerated, Wing filled that role. During the holidays, Shay joined Wing's family for dinner.

For years, Wing's husband Matt had heard his wife talk about Shay. Once he met her, he said he understood how special she was.

"It's clear that she’s an amazing person that just has a light about her that lights up a room when she walks in," said Matt Wing, who's a sergeant with the Brownsburg Police Department. "She’s hard not to love, really."

Shay graduated last year from IU with a bachelor's degree in applied health science, with a major in human development and family studies. She took an internship in Washington, D.C.

There are things many people take for granted that Shay never learned in foster care. No one showed her how to create and stick to a budget, or navigate health insurance.

Wing taught her how to do those things.

And when Shay moved with just two bags of clothing, thinking she'd figure everything else out later, Ginnie Wing sent an Amazon Prime package with some basics, such as food, toothpaste, towels and soap. When Shay couldn't get her blood pressure medication in D.C., Wing picked it up in Indiana and mailed it.

For Shay, who finds it difficult to ask for help, Wing's emotional support and guidance have been invaluable.

"Sometimes I don’t believe in myself," Shay said, "but the fact that I never want to let her down gives me enough courage just to finish the race."

'We should've just adopted you'

Shay knew she needed Wing in her life forever. Shay thought she'd ask Wing to be godmother to the children she hoped to have one day. But it didn't feel like enough.

Then, during a phone conversation last year, Wing made an offhand comment: "We should've just adopted you."

Shay thought about those words. Then she met a former foster youth who'd been adopted in her 30s. Then Shay watched a video on Facebook about another foster youth asking his teacher to adopt him.

She wondered, could I be adopted?

Part of Shay felt selfish for thinking about it. Her biological mother was alive, though she'd never been able to provide the support Shay needed.

During a church service in February, Shay listened as the pastor encouraged members of the congregation to go after what they want. She decided to take that advice.

Walking to the metro station, Shay sent Wing the text asking to be adopted.

"Sorry, I was driving," Wing replied a short time later. "You know I would in a heartbeat."

'She's ours, and we're hers'

Wing told IndyStar she hadn't realized adult adoption was an option.

She broached the subject with the rest of the family, and they all supported the idea. They loved Shay.

The Wings' children said it was "about time" they adopted her.

Matt Wing recalled a conversation he'd had two years ago with a friend who had been in foster care. That friend, now in his 60s, said he'd still do anything to have a mom and dad.

The Wings' attorney cautioned them against the adoption. He suggested Shay just change her name. He was concerned that adopting Shay meant she would become one of the Wings' heirs.

"I'm like, yeah, that's kind of what we're looking for," Ginnie Wing said. "If something would happen to me or my husband, that she's ours and we're hers. And we wanted that to become official."

They got a new attorney.

Shay told her biological parents and grandmother what she wanted to do. She said she respects them for bringing her into the world. She didn't want anyone to be blindsided.

A judge approved the adoption April 20. Shay Roberson became Shay Roberson-Wing.

Shay said all she could do was cry when she found out it was official. Matt Wing loved her enough to give her his last name. Ginnie Wing loved Shay enough to make her a daughter.

"It was big," Shay said.

She calls Ginnie Wing "Mom" or "Momma." Matt Wing is "Pops."

"It just makes me smile," Ginnie Wing said, her voice thick with emotion. "It makes me really happy."

Wing said she's still a little surprised by all of it.

"When I took this position, I never would have thought that my involvement here at the school would grow my family," she said.

Wing said she hopes other people will recognize the opportunity to help foster youth so they can become as independent as Shay.

After her internship was over, Shay remained in the D.C. area. Today, she works as a project coordinator for JBS International.

Matt Wing called Shay "an absolute inspiration."

"Where she came from and where she’s at now is amazing," he said. "And I think she didn't let her circumstances define her. She defined herself. And kind of beat the odds."



Read more about Shay:Foster youth faces choice to rise above or succumb

Call IndyStar reporter Marisa Kwiatkowski at 317-444-6135. Follow her on Twitter at @IndyMarisaK.