As of today, Philadelphia has had an alarming 167 murders this year, which is better than last year, but still nightmarish. This means that 334 parents and even more family members are left with the responsibility of burying a loved one. Unfortunately, these families have been inducted into an emotional rollercoaster that will last the rest of their lives.
Our harsh reality is that when our beloved child is murdered, we are known as the victim’s family survivors. As you first become inducted into this Survivors Club, you may feel like you’re having an out of body experience. You may feel alone in a crowded room, ashamed. No one understands. How did you get here?
Yes, you can see and hear what’s going on around you, but you are just trying to make sense of this new found reality. You may still be in shock from the horrific news you just received. Some act as if their child is away until reality hits them like a ton of bricks.
Rumors and stories will circulate in the streets about your beloved child. But the reality is that they are no longer on this earth, and nothing makes sense. All you want is your child to walk through your doors again so this nightmare can be over.
There will be people running to be by your side and pulling you into many directions, but pace yourself. Don’t allow a lot of people in your space at this time because you will need to conserve your peace and energy. People will begin to dictate what you should do and how you should feel. Always remember a smile is not always a friendly smile.
Life will change for you and your family. It’s like taking a glass and dropping it, when you look down all you see is shattered glass, and that’s what I am now. I’m shattered trying to place pieces of my life back together again.
One part that really bothered me is going to the City Morgue to identify my child’s body. That morning, I changed my clothes at least three times. My nerves were all over the place because I thought they would show me his physical body. I tried to get out of going several times, but my mother continued to encourage me to go handle my son’s business.
Upon entrance to the morgue, one must show identification and tell the security guard who you are identifying. Once I said my son’s name out loud to a stranger, my voice cracked and I felt faint. As I sat in the waiting area, I looked around and became angry and scared at the same time. The young lady approached us and introduced herself, and we followed her into a room where we sat down and I began to pray that this is a mistake.
Unfortunately, as she opened the file, I saw my Sonnyboy’s face. He looked like he was in a peaceful sleep. She asked me his name and I gave her his ID because I was stuck. In my mind I answered her, but my mouth wouldn’t move. She exited the room and allowed us time to grieve (five minutes) while she made copies for the city records as well as asked us the undertakers information, which made this surreal.
I recall coming home filled with an outburst of energy. I began cleaning and making phone calls, looking for pictures. One phone call I made was to the late Malik Aziz, a mentor of Niam’s. He took Niam away to his summer camp each year and talked to him on an ongoing basis. Malik told me he was sick, but would pull it together from his bed. He said, “Kim, I got this. Don’t worry about a thing.” Malik called me back with the names and numbers for his outreach crew that we would use for Niam’s candlelight vigil and peace walk in Germantown.
The other phone call I had to make was to the funeral home. Stewart from the Funeral Consultants began asking me questions about Niam and what I wanted for his service. I screamed to the top of my lungs and tried to run outside just to get away. I felt like if I wasn’t there, I would wake up from this nightmare. My teacher from elementary school, Mr. V, ran after me and calmly talked life back into me. His words were, “Kim, I know you are hurt. Let it out, get it out. I’m with you. I will be here to walk with you, my child.”
Each step of the way, Stewart ensured best quality service for my son. He allowed me to write Niam’s obituary as well as accommodate us with all of Niam’s needs. Niam’s home going service was a great tribute to his 23 years on this earth with us. I cried like a baby because I never could have imagined someone could be so cruel to take another’s life. He was truly the Prince of Germantown.
I recall the detectives coming to the house to introduce themselves and discuss the findings of the case. I looked at tons of pictures. We talked for more than two hours, and when they left they stated they would be in touch. As a victim survivor, your detectives are supposed to keep in contact with you at least once a month to discuss any findings and information. But weeks turned into months and I did not hear from them despite the many phone calls placed.
I was invited to a hearing by State Representative Stephen Kinsey and spoke about not being able to get in touch with the detectives. Little did I know that someone from the DA’s office was on the panel and heard me describing how I would stay up all hours of the night and day trying to reach the detectives. He heard my cries and screams. We exchanged numbers and he was on my phone the next day. He placed me in touch with a young lady from the DA’s office who emailed the detectives and their supervisors several times. When they received no reply, they understood where I was coming from and granted me another set of detectives to handle Niam’s case.
Please don’t allow them to not to keep you in the loop about your child. Along this journey, I have met some parents whose cases are as old as 15 years and still unsolved, and they don’t know who is handling their child’s case. Know and understand you are your child’s voice now, and you have to fight to get justice for your child.
There will be a lot of alone time because some people will not know what to say to you, and others you will choose not to be bothered with. Please don’t take this to heart. This is your time to get up and fight for justice for your murdered child. This is not the time to fall into a deep depression. This is an ongoing process and many people will not understand it. No, you don’t just wake up without a care in the world anymore. Your murdered child is on your mind no matter what. While you’re in that alone state, begin taking notes about anything you hear. Yes, the streets do talk and people will tell you things. Never get upset with the information or the person giving you the information because you never know when you have to go back to them for more details.
Each time you talk to the detectives, write it down. This is why using email is so much better because you’re creating a digital paper trail.
Use the internet to circulate your child’s story as much as you can. Never let the murderer know you have stopped seeking justice for your child. Contact Philly Unsolved Murders, a website run by the police department, so they can add your child to the site as well the Philadelphia Obituary Project.
Find a hobby; this is your time to reinvent yourself. If you have a gift, please bring that dream into reality. Talk with your other children more and love on your spouse. We moms think no one cares, but they do. Some men will not be as open with their feelings as we moms are. It doesn’t mean they are not hurting, they are trying to remain strong and protect their family.
Lastly, I realized my pain is too deep for my family and friends at times. So to assist me more in my new journey of life, I’ve been going to a support group called Moms Bonded by Grief. It’s run under the direction of Terrez McCleary, a mother who lost her daughter to murder. Due to COVID-19 we meet via Zoom until we can resume face to face meetings. Understand this group is not just for moms, it’s for anyone whose loved one has been murdered.
Please find some like-minded people to help you through the process. This pain is too intense for you to bear it alone.
Kimberly Kamara is the author of “Where’s My Daddy,” a children’s book aimed at kids who’ve lost a parent to murder. The book was inspired by her family’s continuing journey of grief after her son, Niam Johnson-Tate, lost his life to gun violence on July 5, 2017. Kimberly has two daughters and lives in Germantown with her husband.
