It was November 18, 2009. Police were everywhere. It looked liked every single Police Officer in
our town (on & off duty) was out here...nothing like this happens
here...not in our town.
I think I was in shock. The Coach, another Mom and I were talking...how could something
like this happened in our town? The 9th safest city of our size in the
US. A murder at a public park where there were kids on the tennis courts having a
lesson, behind a Middle School my daughter would be attending in a
couple of years. I was familiar with this park. I spent 4 years of my
life as a Girl Scout Leader, we had Twilight Camp here every
summer with other kids from other troops throughout our Council. This
was a safe place. This was a happy place. This was home.
I was in some kind of shock I keep rubbing the palm of my right hand. Crap!
I can't get this blood off of me. Please God, don't let me have a
hidden, microscopic cut on my hand. Please don't let his blood mix in
with mine, if it does please let him be healthy.
It was dark outside. The ambulance had already left, no sirens, just lights, going the speed limit. The Coach and I did everything we could to save this boy. Oh,
he really was dead, I was right. I want to throw up. Remain calm. I
can break down when I get home. Ashley? Ashley! ASHLEY!!! This could have been
Ashley! Oh Ashley! Where are you? Oh my God! Ashley, I need to know
you are safe!
A mini van pulls up, looks like a woman gets out, wearing pj's and has her hair pulled back in a ponytail, lots of hair.
A Police Woman walks towards us with her arms out, "Y'all need to
back up please". The three of us start moving further away. We figured
she was the victim's mom. I looked behind me and they made her sit on
the curb. Then we heard it. She screamed. A primal mother's scream.
There was no mistaking it...a mother lost her son tonight.
The
scream reached the very core of me, I had chills, I could literally
feel her pain. I wanted to run to her, hold her, comfort her...Mother
to Mother. I looked at the Coach, my eyes filled with tears. He
immediately grabbed my arm and pulled me close to him and told me I
couldn't go. He tried to hug me, but I stepped away. A hug would have
given me permission to cry, I couldn't cry yet, I can't fall apart
before the police interview me. Remain calm. This could have been
Ashley! What if this happened to Ashley, no one would tell me. Ashley,
where are you? I need you, I need to hold you close, I need to know
you are safe. I need to hold both of my children close.
I finally made it home a few hours later. I was shaking, still in
shock. My husband and daughter were waiting for me in the kitchen. I
still had my jacket on, the one I used to keep "the boy" warm, when I
went over to the sink obsessively washing my hands over and over. My
husband took my jacket to inspect it, then my tights, my shoes, and my
skirt. I told him I was okay. He said he knew I was fine, he wanted to
know if "the boy" was still alive when I got to him. What? He knew I
used my right hand to apply pressure to the fatal wound, because of
where I was if his heart was still beating then I would have been
covered in blood, he was killed instantly because there was no blood on
me, not on my knees or my clothes, just on my hand. I went back to the
sink to wash my hands all over again, repeatedly. A mother lost her son, she
will never see his smile, hear his voice, hear is laughter, she will
never again feel his touch. I was too late. Where is Ashley? What if
this was her, I would never know.
The next day I found out what the boy's name was and his age...he was 4 months older than Ashley.
Last July this horrible crime finally had it's day in court, I had to
testify, the trial ended with a hung jury. We are going back for a
retrial. So the nightmares began again as soon as I receive my
subpoena. The Mother's scream, the air escaping from a lifeless body, the pain of a Mother losing her child. This is what haunts me...
After I testified last summer the boy's
Mother approached me. She
hugged me, we sat down and she held my hands. She explained to me that a
Mother always knows when her child is in danger, she explained the
strange little things that happened the few days before her son's murder
and she explained the great sadness and pain she felt at the time her
son died. I sat there trying to listen carefully because her accent was starting to get thick as she started to cry, I was trying
to fight back the tears. My tears were for her losing her son, but they were also for me losing my child to adoption...my child is out there and I will never know if she is safe. This Mother will now spend her life not hearing her son's laughter, hearing his voice, seeing his smile...she will be able to understand a tiny piece of my pain...a pain I would never wish on another human being.
When a mother is pregnant with her child her body changes, the
chemistry in her brain changes. A maternal
instinct kicks in. I don't know how, but I understand why. This
maternal instinct is suppose to protect the child. When the child is
lost to adoption that instinct does not go away. No piece of paper, no
Judge, no court can remove that maternal instinct. I know you have
heard the saying "A Mother always knows", well, the Mother can sense what
is going on with the child, it's part of that maternal instinct, part of
that bond that is developed during pregnancy. A court document can
separate the Mother and Child, but it can not remove that bond, that instinct.
When I go next week to sit on the stand again I will be relieving the moments from that night, how I tried to save another Mother's child and I will also be reminded how losing my child to adoption will always leave me wondering if my First Child is safe. It will be a cruel reminder, reminding me that I will never know if Ashley is in danger and I will never be able to protect her like a Mother protects her child from danger.