My name is Glenda O’Neill and I am the mother of Timothy Darin Pruett.
On March 1, 1985, my son was placed in my arms for the first time, just minutes after he took his first breath. He was so precious, his face so flawless, his skin so soft and I whispered I love you son for the first time. I was so blessed to have this nine- pound baby boy. I thanked God everyday for my children.
On May 30, 2005, approximately 3:00 in the afternoon, after me hearing the most deafening blasts/shots sounds I have ever heard in my life, I ran from the backyard to the front yard and then to the front porch, A young man named Jake Carroll, approached me at my front door, and I asked, “what are you doing here,” he replied without remorse, “I shot your son”.
I ran into the house frantically looking for Timmy in my house filled with black smoke due to the aftermath of the gunfire. There in my back hall was Timmy wounded by multiple gunshots to his chest, he had a cordless phone in his hands and died with his big brown eyes open. I kept saying over and over, “Talk to Mommy/Talk to Mommy.” I knew in my heart my baby was gone. The night before, he fell asleep on my loveseat with his long legs hanging off the cushions, who knew that as I wished him good night and covered him up it was for the last time.
I will try to find the words to tell you how Timmy’s murder has impacted my life, but there are no adequate words to describe the pain, anger and despair that I’ve felt from his murder. Timmy’s murder took everything from me. It took my rest and my peace. Sometimes the feeling of despair becomes so overwhelming, so deep, that it literally takes my breath away.
I never know what sound or what sight is going to trigger in my mind a memory. I cry at the simple pleasures of life, such as seeing a young man at the mall wearing the same baggy Colts shorts that used to be Timmy’s favorite. And while the memories of Timmy are so sweet, I must accept the realization that he is dead. And each time that realization hits my heart it is devastating.
Timmy was an only son, he was my best friend, and he did not deserve to be so cruelly taken. I do not deserve to have to live the rest of my life with this pain and without my child.
Timmy was a loving, giving young man with a heart as big as the world. This murder took an only brother, a devoted grandson, fun-loving nephew, dear to the heart cousin and treasured friend/buddy who was greatly loved. In the last almost year I have watched as my family has struggled with their pain, anger and grief.
Timmy loved me unconditionally, a love that no one can replace. Sometimes the flashbacks of the murder seem to take over my being, this terrorist takes Timmy’s life and we can do nothing but cry, ask why, over and over?
Jake Carroll took from my daughter a brother she loved from the day I brought him home, they never fought, and Timmy watched over Ashley as if he was the big brother. Our world has been shattered; the grandchildren lost some of their innocence. They are now painfully aware that there is violence and evil in this world. The twelve year old has not slept alone since that day. The three year old knows about murder…think about that! A three year old asking, “Why did that boy shoot Timmy”, “Timmy’s in heaven, right, or telling me “Nana…I know God will give you another Timmy.”
The pain never stops; the nightmare continues to haunt me day in and day out. I never go more than two minutes of my waking life without thinking about Timmy being executed in his own home.
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