I want and need to tell my story. I’m compelled and driven from within beyond reason to tell. This story screams from the inside to be told. I want you to know what I have seen, thought and felt from being an abused and abandoned child. I am a child who has been sexually, mentally and physically violated by the very adults I thought I could trust; my birth mother, stepfather and chief of police. I am the daughter of seven different parents. I am angrier about what they have done to others than for myself. Taking a human life is just plain wrong. The manner in which it was done is heinous and sick. I want justice. I want to be able to right a wrong, to know who died and why. More importantly I want the world to know what the Ku Klux Klan did not only to African American’s but also to Caucasian children by subjecting them to witnessing their crimes of violence. This is not an easy thing to tell, write or read about. I make no apologies for the things I’ve seen, heard and felt as a result of involuntary involvement. I am compelled to tell you what I remember, feel and believe I experienced as a child. For the first time in my life since I first witnessed the atrocities of murder and abuse I have found my voice.
I want and need to tell my story. I’m compelled and driven from within beyond reason to tell. This story screams from the inside to be told. I want you to know what I have seen, thought and felt from being an abused and abandoned child. I am a child who has been sexually, mentally and physically violated by the very adults I thought I could trust; my birth mother, stepfather and chief of police. I am the daughter of seven different parents. I am angrier about what they have done to others than for myself. Taking a human life is just plain wrong. The manner in which it was done is heinous and sick. I want justice. I want to be able to right a wrong, to know who died and why. More importantly I want the world to know what the Ku Klux Klan did not only to African American’s but also to Caucasian children by subjecting them to witnessing their crimes of violence. This is not an easy thing to tell, write or read about. I make no apologies for the things I’ve seen, heard and felt as a result of involuntary involvement. I am compelled to tell you what I remember, feel and believe I experienced as a child. For the first time in my life since I first witnessed the atrocities of murder and abuse I have found my voice.