In February 2020, I was a victim of gun violence. I was going to see someone I believed to be a friend, someone I sent money to in prison, whose girlfriend I let move in with my family and myself. This person’s greed overwhelmed his gratitude, and that individual set me up to become a victim of a robbery. I was shot a total of nine times, seven in the back and one in the arm and one in the leg. This has resulted in me having a spinal cord injury, leaving me in a wheelchair.
The money I lost doesn’t measure up to what I lost or what my son has lost. Every time I have to see the look on my son’s face when he wants to go play catch or hesitates to mention chaperoning a field trip, I die a little inside. My son lost out on the relationship with his father that he could have had. I’m grateful to still be here for him, but these past four years have been hell, from becoming homeless to hopeless and feeling lost and alone. I’m grateful I’m here to tell him anything. But it’s hard.