It was the fall of 1993 in Moraine, Ohio — a quiet suburb just outside of Dayton.

Darcy Burk was living with her boyfriend, Steve Sears, and her two young children, Austin Messner and Jessica Matthews, in a low-income mobile home.

She was working long hours — sorting income tax papers at a company in neighboring Miamisburg, Ohio — and often had to rely on a babysitter to care for Austin, 5, and 2-year-old Jessica.

“At one point, I was working seven days a week, 12 hours a day,” Darcy recalls.

On Wednesday, Oct. 6, she woke with a shock. The house was on fire.

“There was smoke everywhere, I tried to make it past my bedroom door, but the flames were too much. I had to jump out my window. When I got out, I realized the flames had made their way to Jessica’s room.”

Darcy Burk, now 43, cautiously articulates every detail of that gut-wrenching night.

By the time the Moraine Fire Department arrived, it was already too late. Their home was reduced to ashes in less than 12 minutes.

Darcy, Steve, and Austin were all fortunate enough to escape the flames, but Jessica was tragically unreachable.

Shortly upon arriving, the fire chief uncovered the cause of the deadly blaze: Austin admitted he was playing with a cigarette lighter and accidentally set fire to his bed.

But Darcy knows who she blames: Television.

“The fire chief asked Austin where he had learned to play with fire, and he said ‘Beavis and Butthead.’ The girl that I had babysitting was allowing the kids to watch it. He [Austin] would go around laughing like Beavis and Butthead — since the fire he hasn’t done that.”

Today, Darcy has lost all communication with her loved ones.

Jessica Matthews would have turned 21 this Wednesday. Every year on Oct. 6, Darcy sets a pink balloon afloat in honor of her.

Austin, 23, lives with his girlfriend just minutes away in Dayton. Except for the rare phone conversation, he has cut all ties with his mother. “We don’t have a relationship because this is still really bothering him,” Darcy says.

“Growing up, when I was disciplining him, he always though it reflected back to that day. I don’t blame him because he was 5 years old. I would just tell him ‘Austin you didn’t try to kill your sister, it was an accident,’” she adds.

Darcy enrolled Austin in counseling to cope, to no avail. “The more he had to talk about it, the worse he got,” Darcy says.

Their story grew national attention — setting off a debate about how television affects kids. Darcy appeared on “Oprah,” and a slew of media watchdog groups sprang up to decry what our children watch.

It had two immediate effects: MTV moved “Beavis and Butthead” from 6:30 p.m. to after 10, and decided to remove Beavis’ infatuation with “fire, fire!” The Consumer Product Safety Commission also required cigarette lighters to be child-resistant.

But now, nearly two decades later — and with MTV bringing “Beavis” back — the question is still debated: Is TV poisoning kid’s minds?

According to Dr. Eugene Beresin, professor of psychiatry at Harvard Medical School, more than 3,500 studies have examined the link between media violence and violent behavior — and all but 18 of the studies showed a positive correlation between the two.

A National Television Violence Study conducted from 1994-97, meanwhile, found that kids view about 10,000 acts of violence per year and 61% of shows contain violence, often glamorizing it.

But Beresin, who is also a co-director at Massachusetts General Hospital Center for Mental Health and Media, warns that the amount of questionable content is not the full story. While it may be evident that media violence can trigger violent acts among adolescents, for the most part, these imitators account for the minority.

“Overall, violent television doesn’t cause most children to become violent. It may very well affect a small percentage of kids who are vulnerable to violence, who already have impulses toward violence,” he says.

“The truth of the matter is, that’s only a small percentage, maybe 5% to 9%,” Beresin adds. “Am I worried about the general population of kids mimicking violence? No. Am I worried about the small percentage of kids who might be more prone? Yes.”

Should it be censored is not the question, Beresin argues. “The question is, who is responsible for turning the TV on — rather than saying ‘Beavis and Butthead’ is inherently dangerous.”

Today, there’s not as much outcry, either because there are fewer targets, or a general mood against regulation. “Jackass,” for instance, inspires some kids to do really stupid things — despite numerous warnings not to — but it hasn’t inspired the same outcry that “Beavis” once did.

It could be that networks got sick of courting controversy, and moved shows to later hours.

Or, most likely, it isn’t violence that is as common anymore. It’s “Jersey Shore” and “Glee.”

“I don’t believe television has become more violent since the ’90s,” Beresin says. “I think sexuality has increased dramatically since the ’90s. Are we worried that is going to make our kids more sexual? Maybe.”

Indeed, some parents think so. But nobody ever burned down the house from sex. At least not literally anyway. “Human sexuality is a normal drive,” Beresin says. “Violence doesn’t have the same norms as sex.”

Darcy, for one, would be happy if it stayed that way — and is angry that MTV has revived “Beavis.” The show attracted 3.3 million viewers to its premiere Thursday night.

To this day, Darcy still holds the show responsible for losing two of her children — one to a fire and the other to guilt. “I don’t even think that should come back to TV,” she says.