On March 14, 2021, about 3 a.m., I was returning to my room. I had gone on vacation to Vegas. As I was getting ready to call my son, I received a call from my grandson’s dad, screaming and yelling. And I’m like: “What’s going on? I can’t understand you.”
By that time my nephew was calling on the other line, so I clicked over and all I heard was “Auntie, we have a pulse.” I’m like: “What are you talking about?”
He said Jo has been shot inside Swing after-hours club, so I’m like,
“What’s going on?” He said, “Jo I’m talking to your mom now!” So I’m screaming, asking what happened, and the phone hung up. I began to call my family back home to see what was going on. All I knew was that my son has been shot inside Swing nightclub.
I say about 15 minutes later, I received a phone from my son’s kids’ mother, yelling, saying, “Miss Kennisha, I’m sorry, Jo didn’t make it!” So at this point, I lost my mind. I’m screaming, trying to figure out how to get back to Austin quick! Still I’m screaming now: Jorian is my youngest.