My Mother was murdered 29 years, 8 months, and 2 days ago.

Let me tell you a little about that…

A few weeks ago I was made aware that the prime suspect in my Mother’s murder, the person that I know is responsible for her murder, the person that threatened my Mother’s life, the person that a great deal of the community knows is responsible for my Mother’s murder, and the person that was arrested for my Mother’s murder, is currently dying.

Oh yes, I said arrested. What a lot of people didn’t and don’t know is that she WAS arrested for this. She was released, not because she was innocent or found not guilty, but because they couldn’t find the gun and she refused to cooperate. They gathered evidence. They had mountains of evidence. The district and States attorneys were reluctant to prosecute for this reason: (A direct quote from the State Prosecutor)…
“… We know she did this. She is absolutely responsible for your Mother’s death. All the evidence that we have is circumstantial though. We cannot take this case to trial and risk losing, allowing a murderer to go free. We will continue to investigate and I am confident that we will get her. She did this. We will get her.”

That’s what the State Prosecutor said to me, in his office, while meeting with us to provide updates on the case. That was a few weeks after it happened. We never spoke to him again.

The police started an investigation. Aside from the murder investigation there had been multiple police visits to our home, prior to the murder. There had been many incidents and disturbances. Each time my Mother had declined to press charges. She didn’t want that lady locked up. She just- at those times- wanted her to go and cool off, chill out, or leave. But, my Mother loved and cared for her. She loved and cared about her.

Back then I didn’t understand the depth and definition of that love. It wasn’t detailed to us, even us that lived in our home, as romantic or anything close to that. It was presented to us as the love of and for family. My Mother is responsible for that. For hiding and lying about that. For creating an alternative reality to foster the belief that many people had about what was really going on in our house. Definitely to present something else to me. My Mother NEVER let on, to me, that they were in a relationship. As I looked back, especially with a more expanded and experienced perception, it is so plain to see. Even with the false narratives and outright deception that my Mom supplied. They were together. They were a couple.

I always knew why she murdered my Mom.

In the sense that I recognized what my Mom meant to her, and to her for her children. I knew, even at that age, how important my Mom was to her. I’d watched her and my Mom be best friends for a little over 8 years. They were inseparable. They shared everything. There were guidelines and instructions in our home that were intended to fortify my Mother’s desire for us to be a unit. She expressed an unwavering mandate for us to be together, united, and in line with her vision. She was consistent and persistent with implementing rules and policies that corroborated her desire for us to be this “family” she wanted. She empowered that lady. She gave her value and a voice. She acknowledged her. She showed her respect and demanded that the people around us did the same. That gave that lady a presence and a position. After 8+ of being loved on and supported and seen and heard and respected and cared for and trusted and celebrated and included and stimulated and motivated and connected in that way… it is extremely difficult to process having to be without all of that.
I was present during the arguments and fights where that lady pleaded with my Mom to not abandon her and her children. She cried out to not be put out of the house, to not be left alone, to not be given up on.
Time after time my Mom had relented and changed her mind. After every previous incident, argument, fight, and problem, my Mom changed her mind and took her back. She was accustomed to being taken back. She was used to them “working things out”.
When my Mother decided that last time that enough had been enough, that was too much for that lady to handle.
I’ve always understood that. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. But I’ve always understood. I was able to process THAT part of it. That’s why I was able to forgive her. Because I witnessed what went on in our house. I saw how fragile that lady’s mind and self-esteem was. I know how insecure and invisible she felt without my Mom. I heard and saw my Mother give her attention, affection, and a significance that she’d not had before my Mom affirmed her.
Then, from her POV, perspective, my Mom took that away.

I don’t believe that she wanted to take my Mother’s life. I believe that she didn’t want my Mother removing herself from that lady’s life. The truth is that they loved one another. As much as I might not have agreed with the type of love they had for one another, I acknowledge and understand that it was love. It was their love. It meant what it meant to them.

And when my Mom decided that it was time to do something different, she was resolute. She made a finite call.

That lady couldn’t handle that.

If given the opportunity to only process my Mothers murder as the incident that it was, and deal with the grief, hurt, pain, and after effects, as I should have been able to, then these 29 years, 8 months, and 2 days, would have been so different.

A terrible thing happened on March 25, 1994.

Something far worse happened everyday since.

(Cont’d ….)

©️2023 Cornelious “See” Flowers