15 Years Later

It's odd the things you remember in life.

I was in the passenger seat of an old, green Ford pickup truck. We were in the drive-thru at Burger King and I was insisting there was no way that I could eat anything, not even a bite. Yet, it was argued that I was pregnant and I needed to keep my strength and my sugar up. A song came on the radio and as I listened to the lyrics I began to cry. Tonight, writing this, I remember what food I was given at Burger King. It was a bacon, egg, and cheese croissant. I remember what I was wearing....a black shirt with a gray striped dress over it. Yet, I can't remember that song.

We went to meet our group of friends before heading to the funeral home. I knew I wanted that song to be played at the funeral. Pam agreed, and it was played. Yet now, almost 15 years later, the name of the song won't come to mind.

Exactly 15 years ago today, a beautiful blonde haired, blue eyed, six year old boy was murdered. Six years old....the same age my son will turn in three weeks. My son, who has blonde hair and blue eyes. My son who climbs, jumps, flips, and does stunts proudly and with no fear.....just like Jordy did 15 years ago. My son who asked today if he could watch Power Rangers on Netflix. Power Rangers....a show he's never seen, but that was Jordan's favorite.

Jordan's picture sits on the cabinet in my dining room. The picture frame has a motherly angel down the side of it. An angel.......the first time I saw Jordan the sun was shining on his blond curls, and I thought to myself that he looked like an angel. Those words would come back to me when I heard of his death.

I should've known. There aren't many things that can make multiple grown men cry. Yet, all they told us was to go to the pay phone and call Dan. So, we did. I remember thinking it was someone in their family.....their aged father perhaps. But I remember when I heard the person beside me say, “No, it can't be. Are you sure?” Then they looked at me, and suddenly I knew....it wasn't his family member. This was someone I loved. Yet, when he said the name in that horrible sentence, I didn't want to believe. Yet, somehow I felt it......inside.....where the core of all you are exists.

I was sitting in the passenger seat of a car, a small gray Honda. I doubled over in physical pain. I felt it.....the pain....it was driving through me. I raised my head and looked out the windshield. It was dark out, late. Most people were sleeping. Yet, I noticed lights coming on. Inside lights, then porch lights. I looked around for the source of what was waking everyone. I could hear it.....it was this primal scream that sent chills down my spine. It scared me. Even after I was taken back to the house and calmed down, I still didn't realize the screams I heard were my own. That would come to me later.

Each year, right after my birthday, I start to think about Jordan. I think of him often through the year, but towards the end of November I remember. Jordan's birthday is towards the end of November. The holidays. I think of him all through Christmas. He used to lie on the living room floor with me to watch the patterns the lights made on the ceiling. Then, into January....this month. Today.....15 years.

The news reporters all called it, “the worst case of child abuse in North Carolina history”. None of us would argue that point. We saw, we knew, we had tried to save him.

She is behind bars. Two consecutive life sentences and up for parole 25 years after her conviction date. She still claims to be not guilty. Facing the feelings I felt towards her was almost the end of me. God showed me that hating someone, seeking revenge.....that only destroys the hater and not the hated. I almost lost myself learning that lesson.

There are lots of lessons to be learned. There are some lessons that should never have to be learned. Jordan's death taught us all lots of lessons that we didn't need to know. It taught us a level of grief that to date has yet to exist anywhere else in my life. I'm sure those that love Jordy would agree.

I know that no matter how I write the words that come next, that they won't be able to convey the emotion behind my pleas. I know that words can't show you the tears that I shed as I type this. I know that words can't make you feel that pain that is still there.....in the core of my very being. I know that words won't allow you to hear the longing in my voice when I beg you to please do this one thing for me....for Jordan.

If you suspect child abuse, please please please seek assistance. Do not just pick up the phone, call your local Child Protective Service office, make a report, hang up and walk away. FOLLOW UP!! Call back, make sure it was investigated, make sure that the workers know you aren't going to forget. Let your presence be made known. Is the child in school? Report it also to the school. Is the child in daycare? Report it there. Do you happen to know who the child's pediatrician is? Report it there. Is the child school age but not in school? Report it to the truancy officer. Call the police. Call and report it to everyone you can. Each person you report it to will have to document the report and possibly investigate the allegations themselves. By reporting it to multiple people, you just gave that child that many protectors! Keep a ledger documenting what you saw....dates, times, who was with the child, what the abuse/injury was and never let that original out of your site. Include the dates, times and names of the people you reported the abuse to. Make copies to give to those who need it, but hold on to that original so that you hold those dates and times. So that if something else happens to that child, there are people that can be called who are able to move quickly to help the child. So that if the child is not protected by those in charge of protecting children, then there is a record of who to hold accountable.

Between 2006-2010, the average child mortality rate due to homicide was 52. That's 52 children dying each year as a result of child abuse. Homicide. Murder.

You can make a difference. You can save a life. You can do it for any reason you want, or you can do it for Jordan. It doesn't matter to me at all what your reason is, just please.....if you suspect child abuse, do something about it.  

In Memory of Jordy.........

 Typically, this blog is about Pook and living with his special needs. Yet, 14 years ago today something happened that drastically altered not only my life, but the lives of so many others. I'm dedicating this blog to children who have lost their lives due to child abuse. Due to the emotional impact writing this blog has had on me, I did not go back and proofread or spell check it and most likely never will. 

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14 years ago today..........I remember so clearly. It was late when I got home. There was a group of people there. I knew as soon as I saw them something was wrong. One of them opened the door and it was obvious he'd been crying. He told my then husband that he needed to go call his brother. Instantly, fear flooded me. What had happened? It must be one of his parents. What was wrong. 

We drove to the convenience store around the corner to use the payphone. I sat in the passenger seat, rubbing my hands across my swollen stomach that held my child. I was to be a Mommy soon. I leaned back against the head rest and smiled. 

Then, it happened. He gasped and made a choking noise. My head snapped up and I leaned toward him. "What is it?" I whispered frantically. He looked at me, shock and horror filling his face and said, "Jordy is dead". 

I looked around as I suddenly heard screams like I'd never heard before. They sounded so raw, so animal like. I watched as the houses around us begin to light up. I saw curtains pulled back and people peeking out. I was looking around frantically, trying to figure out where the screams were coming from while at the same time trying to process the horrible news I'd just heard. 

I realized that someone was telling me to calm down over and over again. I was being told to quit screaming. It still took a while for me to realize the screams were coming from me. Those raw, animalistic screams were coming from my own mouth. When that realization hit, it only served to sear the heartache and pain into my being. My baby within me was rapidly moving around. I wrapped my arms around my stomach and let the tears and moans escape unhindered. Jordy was dead. 

Jordan Bryant Bradshaw.......I remember the very first time I saw him. He was only a few years old. He and his mother were walking down the drive in front of the college. I didn't know either of them, but our mutual friends were there to pick her up and I was with them. The sky was brilliant that day. One of those days where big clouds cover patches of the sky so that when the sun shines through it is radiant and brilliant. The sun broke through the clouds and shone upon Jordy. His blond hair was radiant in the sun and it looked as if he was surrounded in an ethereal glow. I remember catching my breath and thinking that he looked like an angel. 

Jordy's mother and I hit it off immediately. I quickly became an almost permanent fixture at her home. It wasn't long before I was babysitting for her. She was attending college full time, raising two children with no financial help from their fathers, and was battling some health issues. I feel in love with Jordan and his sister and had no issues hanging out and helping. I remember so much. 

Jordan jumping and flipping through the house pretending to be his favorite power ranger. How he'd sit on the floor with his legs spread apart, leaning back on his hands as he watched television. I remember snuggling with him and his sister on the floor, watching Christmas lights make patterns on the ceiling. Laying outside in the summer watching clouds make shapes of favorite animals. Him teaching me how to play Sonic the Hedgehog on the Sega and laughing when I messed up. His laugh....you couldn't help but smile and laugh along. 

There was the time I caught him and a neighborhood friend peeing their name on the side of the apartment building! I put them both in time out in a corner. They were each in different corners, across the wall from each other. The neighborhood friend kept hissing to get his attention and encouraging him to sneak out the door. I was sitting on the couch reading a book, which I was sneakily peeking across in such a way the boys didn't know I was looking. Jordy resisted at first, but as most young boys will do in the midst of peer pressure, he quickly ducked out the door with the friend hot on his heels. They hadn't even gotten to the corner of the building when I poked my head out the door and asked, "Exactly where do you think you're going?" Jordan and I talked alot about peer pressure that evening, as he moped around the house grounded from outside play! 

Jordan was rambunctious and full of energy no matter time of day or location. Even bath time was an adventure, both for me and him. For him there were pirates, power rangers, and worlds created from imagination. For me there were frantic attempts to clean up the tons of water that splashed out of the tub and me constantly reminding him that water was supposed to stay in the tub (as if that ever happened). 

Jordan and his sister were a light in my world at that time. They were a reminder of what life was supposed to be like. Joyous, pure, innocent. God had placed them in my life to keep me grounded at a time when I desperately wanted to forget much. 

Yet, things changed. Jordy's mother had been receiving financial government assistance while attending college full time. She was a single mom of two and determined to get a college degree so that she could better the lives of her and her children. The government decided that since Jordy's biological father had never paid child support, they would get him to reimburse some of the financial assistance Jordan's family had received. They went after Jordy's biological father for years of back child support. Jordy's biological father was advised, most likely by his wife at the time, to sue for custody. In North Carolina, if you are being sued for back child support and win custody, you don't have to pay a dime of it. 

This was at a time when "welfare" moms were receiving a lot of media attention. Mothers who lived off the system indefinitely, never bettering themselves or their children. There was a stereotype and stigma attached to mothers who received government assistance and that stigma and stereotype followed Jordy's mother into the courtroom. She was made out to be a mother living off the system, lazy, unworking. It was brought up that her children shared a room, sleeping in bunkbeds (I have still to see the crime in that). She was put through the ringer and with no funds to afford great lawyers and legal advice, she was molded into the stereotype. Despite the fact that Jordy's father had never sought visitation or anything to do with his son, he was suddenly viewed as a father wanting to do "the right thing" for his son. Never did it come into play that he was suing for custody to avoid a huge back child support payment. In a twist that none of us thought possible, Jordy was ripped from the only family he'd ever known, and sent to live with his father. He was to see his mother and sister on weekends..........but that didn't work out either. 

Immediatly it was clear that something wasn't right. Jordy quickly lost his smile, the light in his eyes, his joyous rambunctiousness. He quite showing up to see his mother. At first there were excuses....he was sick, etc. But then those quit to. No one answered or returned phone calls and it was if Jordy had dropped off the face of the earth. People rarely saw him, and when they did it was terribly wrong. 

I remember the last time I saw him. I was at the local courthouse to pick up some paperwork. As I rounded the corner, there he was. All the way at the other end of the hall. I ducked behind a column and watched as his biological father and step-mother entered a courtroom, leaving him and his older step-brother sitting on a bench at the end of the hall. He sat quietly and still. It was the middle of summer and scorching hot outside, yet he wore a long sleeve shirt and pants. He was so still, head hanging down, eyes on his hands. I had to walk almost directly in front of them to get to the exit. I paused in front of the exit, and Jordy's step brother looked up at me. He recognized not only me, but the anguish and pain I felt at missing Jordy and longing for his return home. His step-brother looked around, making sure his family wasn't in sight, and quickly motioned for me to come over. I ran to Jordy, knealt in front of him and leaned in for a hug. He flinched and ducked, as if fearing harm. I lowered my head down towards his lap so that he could see me, and told him, "Jordy, it's me, it's Aunt Lissa." He slowly lifted his eyes to mine but it took him many seconds before he realized it was me. A small light flickered in his eyes. I reached out to hug him, yet quickly softened my grip when I realized that he was in pain. "Baby what's wrong?" Suddenly his face filled with fear and he seemed to shrink inside himself. His step-brother leaned over and whispered to me in a scared voice, "You gotta go. They can't see you here. Please, hurry." Confused, I nodded. Before I left I told Jordy, "Hold on. OK, just hang in there. I love you. Your mother and sister love you. You'll get to go home soon." 

I called Child Protective Services that very day. Something was wrong. Why did he hurt when I touched him? Why was he wearing long sleeved shirt and pants when it was scorching hot outside? Why was his older step-brother terrified of his mother and step-father? Why was Jordy so listless and quiet? What was going on? The woman on the phone listened to all that I said and then asked me if I knew either of Jordan's biological parents. I replied that I was friends with his mother. "And, the father has custody of the child?" she asked. "Yes, he does now." I replied. The next words stunned and shocked me to the core. "Well, since your his mothers' friend, we can't seriously consider your report. If anyone else makes a report suspecting abuse, we'll look into it." 

I didn't know what to do. I mean, what did Child Protective Services mean?? How could they not look into my report of abuse simply because I was friends with his mother? 

Over the next several months, things got worse. Jordy's mother saw him one day and his nose was pressed flat against his face. It didn't appear broke in the traditional sense, but looked like something was missing. She reported it to Child Protective Services. 

More and more reports came in to Child Protective Services, and yet Jordy remained in the home where he was obviously being abused. He completely disappeared, not even being seen by neighbors. Child Protective Services eventually sent someone to the home. The report documented severe abuse. Yet, the workers walked away, leaving him in the home. 

Jordan died only a few days later at the hands of his abusive step-mother. I found out that night, sitting in a old beaten gray Honda at a payphone only blocks from the hospital where his small beaten and starved body lay. 

The autopsy report was so long. It's burned in my brain even now, all these years later. The autopsy showed that abuse had taken place the entire time he lived with his biological father. There were broken bones that were never treated. His nose appeared flat against his face because the cartilage between his nostrils had been pulled out, piece by piece. His body was covered in bruises. His scalp showed through the bald spots in his head where his hair had been pulled out. Later labeled "North Carolina's worst child abuse case", our hearts broke as we said goodbye to Jordy. 

In a plea, his biological father was never charged in exchange for his testimony against his wife. He testified that he didn't stop the abuse because he was "scared" of his wife. His wife, Robin Gosnell, was eventually found guilty of first degree murder and sentenced to life in prison without parole. 

Yet, it didn't end there. You see, Robin had placed Jordy's lifeless body in a bathtub of water to make it look as if he had drowned and to make it where the time of death couldn't be accurately determined. She left Jordy there to be discovered by her biological son. Jordy's step-brother.....the same one who had seen me at the courthouse and aided in my being able to see Jordan. This compassionate boy, to who I will always be grateful and indebted for giving me one last chance to tell Jordy that we love him, took his own life 3 years later.

There were other children in the house during the years Jordy suffered abuse. I can't imagine the way that these events affected them throughout the years. I have seen how this tragic event affected Jordy's mother and older sister. So many lives have been touched by Jordan's senseless, abusive and tragic death. For those of us that knew him, it's left us with a space in ourselves that has never been filled. It's not an emptiness, because in that space we hold our memories of him. It's a space only he can fill, and one day, when we meet again, he will fill that place that we all hold for him. 

For those of you not familiar with the case, you may wonder what happened with Child Protective Services. Well, Jordan wasn't the only child that they neglected to save. Rowan County suffered the loss of 3 other children's lives.....the youngest was 16 months old, the oldest was 16. Each of these children had Child Protective Services involved. They each were killed within the first 6 months of 1997. Child Protective Services did get sued and did settle. They also got granted state and federal funds to hire more workers. At the time the deaths happened, there were only 4 investigative workers for the county. The grants enabled the Department of Social Services to hire more workers, for a total of 11 investigative workers. The Department repeatedly stated that these deaths would not have happened if they had enough workers. If this is the case, then residents of Rowan County need truly to be scared. Two years ago, 12 years after the death of these children, I asked one of the workers how many other workers there are. I was told that Child Protective Services has a total of 4 investigative workers. The same number they had in 1997 when four children died of horrific child abuse.....cases where Child Protective Services were already involved! 

Today, I dedicate my blog to Jordan Bryant Bradshaw, DeMallon Krider, Christopher Jones, and all the other children who have lost their lives to abuse. 

Jordy, I love you and look forward to the day I see you again. 

Pam, thank you for taking the time to pull me through and show me support at a time when it should have been the other way around. 

Tris...I'm proud of you and always will be.






http://www.amazon.com/Justice-Jordan-Robert-Hinson/dp/1890424137
http://www.salisburypost.com/2000nov/112000a.htm
http://www.aoc.state.nc.us/www/public/coa/opinions/2000/990646-1.htm
http://www.salisburypost.com/newscopy/061699lawsuit.htm