Jessica Smith: Bridging Gaps and Restoring Hope with M.A.L.H.Y.
It was a cool afternoon at The Nook in Temecula Business Park, a venue that felt like the perfect setting for a story about resilience and hope. Against the backdrop of the floating bookshelves adorned with plants, candles, and well-loved books, Jessica Smith, founder of the 501(c)(3) non-profit, M.A.L.H.Y., sat perched on the edge of the plush gray couch. With her soft smile, she had a commanding yet calming presence. Her all-black dress exuded elegance, accented by a diamond brooch spelling out “M.A.L.H.Y. Jessica.”
As she settled into her seat, you wouldn’t be able to help but notice Jessica’s hands. They rested lightly in her lap, fingers entwined. Occasionally, she’d make a circular motion with her hand—up and outward—as if she were gently sending her words into the air for others to hold.
The Hidden Vine team couldn’t help but let out a heavy exhale. We’d been chasing down Jessica Smith for months. Her reputation precedes her and to have the opportunity to finally hear her story was nothing short of a blessing.
So how did it all begin?
“I started M.A.L.H.Y. because I saw a big need in the community, and M.A.L.H.Y. is a personal story of mine and my family,” Jessica began, her voice steady but tinged with emotion.
The nonprofit’s mission is ambitious: to provide free resources for ages 10 to 25 in the areas of mental health, addiction, love, human trafficking, and youth financial literacy. The acronym itself, M.A.L.H.Y., stands as a powerful reminder of the interconnected struggles faced by today’s youth.
Jessica’s vision for M.A.L.H.Y. was born not just from observation but from deeply personal experiences. As she recounted her journey, the weight of those moments was reflected in her gentle gestures and thoughtful pauses.
“COVID was hard on everyone, but for my family, it really revealed how broken the system is,” she said, her fingers twisting in her lap. “One of our loved ones was struggling with mental health, and when we reached out for help, they told us the waitlists were three months. Three months! How do you wait that long in a crisis?” She shook her head, her frustration hanging in the air.
The conversation turned even more poignant when she shared a harrowing experience involving human trafficking. Jessica’s hand motions became slower, deliberate, as if trying to physically temper the weight of her words.
“One of my family members was targeted through the Roblox app,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. She paused, clasping her hands tightly. “She was communicating with someone she thought was her age, but they manipulated and groomed her, convincing her to share her location. They then planned to meet her at a local park.”
A silence filled the room, heavy and thick.
“I noticed something was off in her behavior,” Jessica continued. “That’s when I stepped in, checked her conversations on her tablet, and saw what was happening. I took action right away. I called everybody that I needed to call, and they met that person at the park and were able to find out what he was planning on doing.”
Her eyes glistened as she spoke, but there was a determined strength in her voice. “In our community, our kids are going missing, but it’s not like in San Diego County, LA County, or San Bernardino County where they have tracks.”
She explains that tracks are where you can actually see young youth and adults being trafficked out in the open, right on the street.
“Here, you don’t see that,” she continued. “What you do see are posts on social media saying ‘missing, missing, missing.’ Those kids are the ones becoming missing, and then they’re being trafficked. They could be transported to San Diego, LA, or the high desert.”
Jessica explains that Riverside Count is number one in human trafficking.
“We’re so close to the border, and a lot of people don’t realize that trafficking is happening through social media. It’s not something you see visibly—it’s all through social media communication.”
Through her organization, Jessica has developed innovative outreach programs, including placing magnets with hotline numbers in public restrooms. “It’s a simple thing,” she explained, “but when someone sees that number and calls us, it can mean the difference between captivity and freedom.”
Jessica’s passion extends beyond human trafficking. She weaves education into every aspect of M.A.L.H.Y.’s mission, drawing on her 25 years in banking to teach youth financial literacy. “I want these kids to know how to manage their money, avoid debt traps, and build their futures,” she said, her hand making that familiar outward motion, as if offering the concept to the universe.
As the interview neared its end, Jessica lit up while talking about the upcoming Winter Gala. “It’s our biggest fundraiser,” she said, her smile softening the intensity of the previous moments. “The funds we raise help us provide therapy sessions, addiction recovery resources, and temporary housing, at no cost to those who need it most.”
Jessica’s words painted a vivid picture of the gala: inspiring survivor stories, educational presentations from task force members, and a celebration of resilience and hope. “This is more than a fundraiser,” she said. “It’s a chance to bring light to the issues no one wants to talk about; mental health, human trafficking, and addiction, and show people that help is here, and there’s no shame in seeking or talking about it.”
Anyone in Jessica’s presence will undoubtedly marvel at the depth of her dedication. M.A.L.H.Y. isn’t just an organization; in her own words, “We are the ones who fill the gap left by the systems that leave our most vulnerable deserted.”
In that moment, sitting on that gray couch in the warmth of The Nook, It was clear that Jessica wasn’t just sharing a story, she was assisting lives.
To learn more and donate to M.A.L.H.Y., visit malhy.org/
Watch Jessica’s interview here: Jessica Smith & M.A.L.H.Y. | Fighting Human Trafficking and Empowering Youth in Temecula
