The Arrow's Origin Story
The pain of what happened is less than the ache of what never will
The Arrow's Origin Story
The pain of what happened is less than the ache of what never will
Strong, capable, independent, uncompromising, charismatic—a perfectionist who made allowances for others but not herself. A true leader just beginning to understand and believe in her own potential.
Texas A&M ’13 · Environmental Science · Katy, Texas
Kirsten did nothing halfway. From the moment she arrived in this world at Katy Hospital, she approached life with a fearless intensity that defined everything she touched.
As a young gymnast, while her sister Kate performed with flowing grace and artistry, Kirsten attacked the apparatus with raw power and strength, expecting to dominate and beat it into submission. That description applied throughout her life—in relationships, sports, academics, and work. When she committed to something, she was all in. Uncompromising. No holds barred. No excuses. In it to win it.
In sixth grade, when she saw classmates recognized for participating in five sports, she decided to do the same in seventh grade. She asked her dad to teach her golf as her fifth sport. He began drafting a training program in his head—grip, stance, shoulder turn, YouTube videos, weeks of practice. Then he asked when tryouts were. Monday. Two days away. They spent the weekend on basics. She made the team alongside players who had been golfing for three or more years. By the end of the season, she was among the top players.
That was Kirsten. When committed to something, she was all in.
Graduating from Texas A&M with a degree in Environmental Science was the achievement of which Kirsten was most proud. A&M is as much about culture as academics, and Kirsten embraced the Aggie spirit with a nearly religious devotion to its traditions.
Her Aggie ring became a defining part of her. She would nearly panic if she left the house without it. Getting that ring, wearing it, attending Aggie events, meeting Aggies of all ages—these gave her more pleasure than most anything else. The values it represented—respect, excellence, leadership, loyalty, integrity, selfless service—were not abstract ideals for Kirsten. They were how she lived.
Those values showed in her professional life as an Environmental Consultant, where colleagues described her as meticulously efficient, dedicated, and passionate. She managed hundreds of consulting projects across commercial, federal, state, and local government entities. One employer created a special position at additional pay just for her. When Covid wound down, former employers sought her out, knowing she was a dependable, strong performer.
Friendships mattered deeply to Kirsten. She would open her home to friends in need, support them through Covid and career challenges, help new A&M graduates with resumes and interviews. She could be an incredible cheerleader for those she cared about. This was another area where she committed herself totally.
Her Aggie—and just good human—values shine through her work ethic and honesty. She is a kind, genuine, and sociable person.
Timothy Crook
Fellow Aggie & friend
Meticulously efficient is the phrase that comes to mind. No matter how tense deadlines made the office, Kirsten made sure everyone was at ease with a well-placed joke.
Carolina Castro
Colleague, Trileaf Corporation
She is smart, driven, punctual, and extremely hard working. A team player and a good leader. I have only great things to say about Kirsten.
Camila Biaggi
Fellow Aggie & friend
Kirsten is very professional and highly responsive. She rolled with the punches. I could always trust her to deliver on time and without error.
Ricardo J. Garcia
Client
Residents Organized for Accountable Results
Originally NeighborhoodWalk · A Fate's Arrow Product
During her last year, Kirsten walked. A lot. Through the neighborhoods of Katy, Texas, with the observant eye of an environmental scientist and the determination of someone who believed things could be better.
She kept notes. Broken sidewalks. Street lights that were out. Drainage issues. Overgrown medians. The small, persistent failures of infrastructure that everyone notices but nobody reports—because the friction of reporting is too high and the feeling of powerlessness too familiar.
Kirsten saw something others walked past: an opportunity to amplify the voice of homeowners. She founded Fate's Arrow LLC and began designing what she first called NeighborhoodWalk—an app that would let residents document issues on their walks and channel those observations into organized, actionable reports for HOAs, municipalities, and local government.
The concept evolved into ROAR—a name that captured exactly what Kirsten wanted: to give neighborhoods a voice that could not be ignored.
The idea was pure Kirsten. Practical. Bold. Born from direct observation rather than abstract theory. Rooted in the Aggie values of service and community. And driven by that characteristic refusal to accept problems that had solutions, if only someone would commit to building them.
Kirsten never got to build ROAR. But she left us the LLC, the concept, and the conviction that this app could make a difference. We intend to honor that vision.
Depression is an insidious illness, creeping in among normal, rational thoughts to gradually deliver its harmful effects. For Kirsten, it converted compliments into criticisms. Supportive comments became disapproving observations. It disabled her from seeing her own beauty, her own strength, her own value—instead highlighting perceived defects against whatever standard the world had set that week.
Bipolar disorder affects over 5.7 million Americans. It is the sixth leading cause of disability in the world, and it disproportionately affects women between the ages of 28 and 30. Kirsten was diagnosed at 30.
She fought. For over a year, through three hospitalizations, through medications that could not quite find their mark, through a system that too often could not see her behind the paperwork. The biggest pain for Kirsten was that she could no longer be the person she wanted to be. Nothing the medical community did was sufficient to make her believe that, given time, she would again be who she was.
Hope—translated from the Greek myth of Pandora as Anticipation—was believed to be the core force that let the living keep on living. The ability to look forward past the trials of the moment. Depression's vicious cycle took that from Kirsten. It left her without a future to anticipate.
On the morning of July 29, 2022, Kirsten reached out to the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline by text—typical of her generation, connecting in the way most natural to her. Thirty minutes later, she was gone. She was thirty years old.
There are few things more difficult than having your child die. It is an order of magnitude more painful to realize you could not help her, and were not the people she reached out to in her final moment of crisis.
Through the Donate Life program, Kirsten's final act of service saved the lives of others. Even in departure, she gave. Even in the end, the Aggie values held: selfless service, carried through to the last.
Walking between the rows of care providers as Kirsten was moved to the operating room, her family was unprepared for the emotion. They could not speak. But what was in their hearts was gratitude—for the people who spend each working day caring for strangers who love them for what they do.
One of Kirsten’s favorite sayings was “Don’t judge me,” always said with a grin. We turn that inward now. Nobody is accountable for the tragedy her illness caused.
Fate’s Arrow exists to carry forward the work Kirsten began. To build what she envisioned. To give communities a voice that cannot be ignored. To ensure that her intelligence, her determination, and her belief that one person can make a difference did not leave with her.
People are never gone so long as they remain in our daily conversation, in our thoughts, and in our hearts.