Our Own Terrible Horrible Day

As I wrote last week, this past Friday was the sentencing hearing for the shooter in Kim’s and my son’s murder. By any definition, it wasn’t easy. We didn’t know what to expect.

Honestly, it was Our Own Terrible Horrible Day.

I had only seen a newspaper picture of the shooter. At the time he was charged, he was a skinny, little kid of fifteen. My father-in-law remarked that at the first hearing, the young man would turn around and smirk, and that smirk left our families angry.

I was prepared to see something of a monster. I was prepared to hate the boy. While the two assistant state prosecutors did their best to explain what we would see and hear, no amount of preparation prepared us for what we were to see and hear.

We learned a little bit more about how Wil was shot which was hard to hear, and the specific statements by witnesses led to some confusion and even more anger. When one of the assistant state prosecutors asked a series of questions, the young man responded with a soft, “Yes, Sir.”

Then it came time for us to present the “victim impact statement.” The four of us, Kim, Hannah, Emily and I wrote it together. What was difficult was that the statement couldn’t “bash” the defendant; the judge; the sentence; or the system. We were to state the impact Wil’s murder had on us. Each of us had a few edits. My brother, Jack, supplied the final paragraph.

From what Kim and the girls said, there were quite a few tears as I read our statement. They continued when Maria's brother, Tim, read Maria’s statement. As difficult as it was to put thoughts into words and words onto paper, I know it was difficult to listen to these two statements.

The young man sobbed almost through the whole process, especially so during both of the impact statements. He never raised his eyes from the floor if he opened them at all.    

We were all taken aback when it was time for the young man's mother to speak. She lectured, actually yelled at us on how we should feel and act towards her son. The assistant state prosecutor had to ask the court to stop her. I can tell you it left us angry. Looking back, she was a mom who was embarrassed and hurt and scared. I get that now two days and a thousand miles later. I get that.

The young man was given the opportunity to read his own statement. His hand shook as he took it out of the envelope. Again, he sobbed. His lawyer had to read it because the young man was too emotional.

Honestly, the young man wrote a very sincere and heart-felt statement about how sorry he is for the pain his actions have caused. He said he has rejected gang life and that he wants to help others like him make better decisions and be better people.

Deep down, Kim, Hannah, Emily and I know that no amount of justice or time in prison will bring Wil back. That one senseless, heartless act took Wil away from us.  

Our girls will not get another chance to be with their brother. They won’t get another chance to receive the birthday call from him and Maria singing happy birthday to them.

There’s an empty seat at the table now. Every Christmas our family tries to ignore it. There aren’t any more phone calls. None of us will ever get a phone call just to ask how it’s going. Each of us has a voicemail, and every time one of our phones gets switched, panic sets in because we are afraid to lose one of the only links to Wil we have. Just like his life, just like his smile, we’re afraid we’ll lose that, too.

Wil wasn’t there for Emily’s graduation from high school, but she certainly thought about him that day. He won’t be there when Hannah or Emily graduate from college. He was not there when Emily played her first collegiate soccer game, which tore at her because he was always pushing her to get where she is today. He never got to see her play and she wanted to share her first collegiate start with him. But she couldn’t because Wil was gone.

Hannah threw herself into school. Each of us have been worried because she was away and we couldn’t be there for her. We watched as she developed anxiety about being away from home. We watched her try to keep all of her feelings in, for Emily’s sake. In one day Hannah lost the one person she turned to talk to at odd hours of the day, the person she relied on to keep her secrets, the person she went to for advice and the person who was her best friend.

We’ve watched Maria change. It is as if an important piece of her soul is missing. Her smile isn’t as bright as it once was. We feel like we’ve drifted away from Maria, and we feel like she has drifted away from us, but we understand because it is just too hard. There are too many reminders and each of those reminders and each of those memories are painful.

One stupid, senseless and heartless choice changed our family forever. One senseless act, one heartless act, took our son and Hannah’s and Emily’s brother, and Maria’s husband away. Wil is gone. Wil is dead. Wil has been murdered.

So, the young man, now eighteen, wrote a statement which was read by his attorney. The young man apologized. He stated his determination to change. He rejected gangs and gang life. He wants to help other, younger kids from making the same mistakes and choices he has made.

Do we believe him?

A part of me really wants to but his actions will ultimately tell the real story. I put a lot of stock in actions. I’ve written in other posts that actions manifest what is in a person’s heart. Words, on the other hand, are meaningless without the actions to back them up.

I will never forgive what the young man did on the afternoon of July 12, 2014. Never. That one decision, that one choice affected so many and altered our lives in ways we’re still trying to understand.

But . . .

If Wil's death helps this young man change his life for the better, then it would help give me . . . perhaps give us . . . a little peace.

I’ve written in many posts of my belief in the good of man. I’ve written that while there is ugliness in our world, each of us can, and should, work to make it better. We make it better by our choices, by our words, but mostly by our actions. I have to believe in the ultimate good in man. I have to. So, while I cannot and will not forgive the young man’s choice, the young man’s action, I can and will forgive the young man himself. I think Wil would want that. I sincerely believe that.   

So perhaps Our Own Terrible Horrible Day might, in time . . . in a long, long time, turn out . . .

So many emotions, so much to process. Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

To My Readers:

Please feel free to connect with me at:

Twitter at @jrlewisauthor

Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/Joseph.Lewis.Author                       

Amazon at: http://www.amazon.com/Joseph-Lewis/e/B01FWB9AOI/

 

Justice Weeps

Justice Weeps

And so will we.

Some of you might know and some of you might not, but on July 12, 2014, Kim’s and my son, Wil, was shot and killed as he walked down a Chicago street. He was working on a photo shoot, took a break and went for some lunch and a few items for the apartment he and his wife, Maria, had moved into two weeks previous.

A car of gang members spotted a rival walking on the same street as my son. Allegedly, the thirty-one year old (at that time) gave a handgun to a fifteen year old (at the time) passenger and told him to, “Wet his shirt!” A seventeen year old (at the time) accompanied the shooter.

Our son was between the intended victim and the shooter. Ten shots were fired, but only one hit anyone . . . our son, and Hannah’s and Emily’s brother, and Maria’s husband.

The thirty-one year old was arrested at the scene. The other two escaped, but were later apprehended in Racine, Wisconsin, and all three have been in custody ever since.

This coming Friday, May 12, 2017, exactly two years and ten months to the day Wil was shot and killed . . . murdered . . . Kim, Hannah, Emily and I, along with Wil’s wife, Maria, will appear at the hearing of the shooter. The hearing will be in juvenile court.

Yes, juvenile court.

The Illinois legislature passed a law at some point after Wil was murdered that mandates juveniles, regardless of the crime, need to be tried in juvenile court. It went to the Illinois Supreme Court and the law was upheld unanimously. The state attorney appealed to the judge and the judge denied the petition.

So what does this mean?

It means that our son, Wil, and Hannah’s and Emily’s brother, and Maria’s husband is still dead, murdered at the hand of a then fifteen year old.

And, at age twenty-one, serving just six years for the crime of murder, the shooter will be set free.

We were advised that our victim’s impact statement will not have any impact on the judge or the outcome of the hearing. Maria’s impact statement will not have any impact on the judge or the outcome of the hearing. Nothing we say will have any impact on the judge or the outcome of the hearing.

So, one wonders, what is justice and how will it be served with respect to our son, Wil? How will justice be served with respect to Hannah’s and Emily’s brother? Or Maria’s husband?

It seems to me that justice won’t be served at all.

Justice will Weep.

And so will we.

We don’t want sympathy or pity. Wil wouldn’t want that and we certainly don’t. What we do want is for each of you to Live Your Life, Make a Positive Difference in the Lives of Others, and most importantly . . . and this is truly important, Don’t Take Life For Granted.

You can’t. And you shouldn’t.

You don’t know when those who are important to you will be taken. I want you . . . I need you . . . to make sure those important people in your life know you love them. Tell them often. More importantly, show them often. Please make sure they know how you feel.

Life is too fragile. Life is too delicate. Life cannot and should not be taken for granted. Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

Appreciation

I think there is nothing that beats the feeling of being loved, wanted and appreciated! Nothing. I don’t think we express it nearly enough. We might think it. We might feel it. But we don’t express it. And it is the expression of love and appreciation that ties us to mankind, to each other, especially to those who are dear to us.

Sometimes, we take those who we love and appreciate the most for granted. We assume “they know” and even if we’re right- that they do know- expressing it is more valuable than you can imagine.

I am who I am because of those who nurtured, guided, prodded, pushed and poked me along the way. I am who I am because I was mentored and cared for.

Next week, we celebrate Teachers. Someone named next week as Teacher Appreciation Week. To me, it is vital and necessary, but it shouldn’t be just one week. Teachers are too valuable.

I look back in my life and there are several who shaped, guided, mentored, and yes, pushed, pulled, poked and prodded. I’m sure at times I was exasperating. I’m sure at times they felt like giving up on me.

But they didn’t! They hung in there with me, and more importantly, they hung in there for me.

Mrs. Nancy Mehring, my fourth grade teacher saw something in me that my previous three teachers didn’t. Before her, my grades were something akin to pebbles at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Before her, I was just “another Lewis.” She rescued me. She picked me for various classroom duties. I remember her calling my name to help make a classroom decision. It was because of her my view of self changed. And I think, because I viewed myself differently, kids in my class viewed me differently. My annoying stutter stopped. I stood a bit taller. My grades shot up. And, I was happily willing to work for her. She inspired me and because of her, I smiled more and I laughed a little.

Sr. Josephe’ Marie, my sixth grade teacher was, and still is to this day, a friend, a mentor, and a spiritual confidante. She knew I loved to read, but she inspired in me a love of writing. I credit her with whatever success I have. She was “the crazy nun” and I loved her, still love her, and I know my classmates did, too.

I’ve been in education for forty years and I’ve been blessed along the way. I’ve had wonderful colleagues who made me a better teacher and person simply because I was around them. I’m so thankful to them: Dan and Mark, friends and my assistant coaches; Bill, the first principal I truly could call a mentor; Andre, another mentor who I can say truthfully that what he has done for me, for others extends far past the classroom, the school, and into one’s heart and soul. Tony, now deceased, who was an exceptional teacher and an even better person. So many others. So many others . . .

I look at my staff: teachers all- regardless of title- caring, compassionate, and patient. Teachers who guide and mentor. And like those teachers in my younger years, teachers who pull and push and prod and poke. Teachers who spend their own money on pencils and candy and bulletin board supplies. Teachers who stay up grading and making suggestions so their kids can improve and achieve great things. Teachers who come up with creative ways to reach their students. Teachers who don’t receive the appreciation, the thank you, the “you make a difference” enough. Not nearly enough. I walk the hallways and I visit your classrooms and at times I stand before you, humbled because you are so much better than I was or am. Proud to call you My Tribe. Proud to be among you. Proud to be one of you.

Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

To My Readers:

I just finished my fifth work of thriller/mystery fiction, Caught in a Web and it’s currently being edited. I’ll keep you posted as to when it will be published.

Please feel free to connect with me at:

Twitter at @jrlewisauthor

Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/Joseph.Lewis.Author                       

Amazon at: http://www.amazon.com/Joseph-Lewis/e/B01FWB9AOI/                

If you like Thriller/Mystery fiction, check out my novels:

Available on Amazon for .99 the Lives Trilogy Prequel, Taking Lives:

FBI Agent Pete Kelliher and his partner search for the clues behind the bodies of six boys left in various and remote parts of the country. Even though they don’t know one another, the lives of FBI Agent Kelliher and two boys become interwoven with the same thread that Pete Kelliher holds in his hand. The three of them are on a collision course and when that happens, their lives are in jeopardy as each search for a way out. http://bit.ly/Taking-Lives-JLewis

Stolen Lives, Book One of the Lives Trilogy:

Two thirteen year old boys are abducted off a safe suburban street. Kelliher and his team of FBI agents have 24 hours to find them or they’ll end up like all the others- dead! They have no leads, no clues, and nothing to go on. And the possibility exists that one of his team members might be involved. http://bit.ly/Stolen-Lives-JLewis

Shattered Lives, Book Two of the Lives Trilogy:

Six men escaped and are out for revenge. The boys, recently freed from captivity, are in danger and so are their families, but they don’t know it. The FBI has no clues, no leads, and nothing to go on and because of that, cannot protect them. http://bit.ly/Shattered-Lives-J-Lewis

Splintered Lives, Book Three of the Lives Trilogy:

It began in Arizona with death and it ends in Arizona in death. A 14 year old boy has a price on his head, but he and his family don’t know it. Their family vacation turns into a trip to hell. Out gunned and outnumbered, can this boy protect his father and brothers? Without knowing who these men are? Or how many there are? Or when they might come for him? http://bit.ly/Splintered-Lives-J-Lewis