Travesty of Justice

My then nineteen-year-old son, Joshua, was found in the chain of a swing set in Amsler Park/McGregor, Texas on February 16, 2006. It was a Thursday morning. 

This was a horrifying, shocking, numbing loss! Not my baby! Not my firstborn!

On Saturday, a thought hit me—they found him alone in the park in the dark!

On Monday, the day of his funeral, I was in a world I had never experienced before and never want to again. It was as if I wasn’t really there. People kept telling me to get ready, his funeral is at two, take a shower, hurry … why? I certainly didn’t want to attend a funeral for my son. Hey, if I didn’t go, it wouldn’t be real! Well, somehow, I made it. I viewed my son lying in the casket, thinking what a beautiful young man he is. Reality hit—he’s dead! I watched as the church filled up and beyond capacity for Joshua. I listened as Travis Tritt sang “Tell Me You Didn’t Say Goodbye.” (I knew it was more of a relationship song, but it was the right one for Josh.) I don’t remember hearing the gist of the sermon by the youth minister, I do remember hearing a lot of crying, sobbing, and sniffling. I remember hearing “Tears in Heaven” by Eric Clapton and Vince Gill’s “Go Rest High on that Mountain.” I remember being present, but not. I remember trying to remain strong for Joshua’s brother, Michael and my sisters, one of which was terminally ill with metastatic cancer.

After the service, as our procession waited for a police escort that had been planned and paid for, I looked around to see car after car after car after car. We waited for about fifteen minutes. No officer showed up, so my friend and funeral director, Jerry Foss, decided to risk this move on his own. Off we went! On the corner of Main and Fifth Street, right up from the church, our procession almost collided with a patrol car! We weaved through traffic. I was amazed when I noticed cars were not pulling over to stop for a funeral procession! I also noticed the detective’s car parked behind the police station and two patrol cars at Subway. We did make it to the cemetery, weaving from side to side, as young people do. I remember Joshua’s girlfriend, Kayla, sitting in the car with me. I turned to look at her and I “saw” Joshua between us. I remember hearing “Dear Mama” by Tupac and “I Miss My Homey.” It never occurred to me that once the dirt was shoveled back over the gaping hole, I would never see my Joshua again!