Sha’Nee Lauren Dougherty, our middle daughter, became a victim of gun violence in the early hours of August 18, 2008 at the age of 17. As she ended the summer in her old neighborhood of 22nd Street, SE, she was visiting friends and enjoying the last hours of summer before preparing to attend college. A high school graduate of only a few weeks, Sha’Nee was full of life and ready for the next phase in her future.

Losing Sha’Nee so unexpectedly to gun violence has been a life altering event for our family. We had experienced the loss of her mother 7 months previous to her death and visiting her former neighborhood brought comfort and joy to Sha’Nee. It helped her with coping with the grief of losing her mother and leaving a community and friends who rallied around her mother during her long illness.

Sha’Nee loved fashion and would often make her own style of fashion by spray painting shoes, adding patches to shirts and dresses, and adorning her love of colorful outfits with eye catching accessories. She always wore a bright smile and was a devoted and loving daughter, sister, neice, granddaughter, cousin, and friend. A teacher from Booker T. Washington Public Charter School called her a “ray of sunshine” and painted a mural of sunrays over the school library entrance.

Although her life ended on August 18, 2008, her memory lives on in our hearts and in the educational endeavors of DC’s college bound students. Thru generous donations a memorial scholarship fund was created in her memory thru Quality Trust for Individuals with Disabilities and a scholarship competition was launched in 2010.

Forget Me Not, Washington, DC’s 119th homocide victim, Sha’Nee Lauren Dougherty. Forget me not, for I am there, In the beat of your heart, On the wing of your prayer.

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On October 31, 2009, after attending a family party at home and taking his young cousins trick-or-treating, Frankie went to a Halloween party with a friend—a party where he knew no one other than the person with whom he attended. Just minutes after arriving he was shot multiple times—an inexplicable act of violence that ended Frankie’s young life. Frankie was murdered in a senseless, heartless act of gang and gun violence.
Many try to find the words to describe Frankie—his smile, his laughter, his charisma. “My mission is to keep moving forward, representing diversity and optimism. I intend to embody my values and try to facilitate others’ expression of their own values. I expect challenges in the future, but also expect to instill hope in others (and myself) to help overcome those challenges. I will walk hand in hand with my family and friends to achieve goals both communally and/or individually.” Frankie actively explored what it means to be a man in our society and what kind of man he wanted to be. He set his goals high—challenging those around him to think big too. Frankie aspired to have a career in politics—serving as a role model for Chicago’s young Latino community. He dedicated time outside of his honors courses at DePaul University to be a mentor, advisor, and volunteer in social welfare and educational programs throughout Chicago, as well as in Columbia. Frankie’s hero was Barack Obama. He was absolutely convinced that he and Obama were kindred spirits—grounded in principles of truth, justice, equality, service, and love. During his time at DePaul Frankie was nominated to intern at the White House. He also won the Illinois Lincoln Laureates Award, a state-wide award given to students who demonstrate excellence in academics and service with values resembling those of Abraham Lincoln. Just days after his death, Frankie was to receive that award from Illinois Governor Pat Quinn. Frankie’s ambition, idealism, intelligence, enthusiasm and commitment made him a natural leader. Frankie strongly believed in socially responsible leadership. Although he was an adult, Frankie was also our child and he could have been yours too. There was nothing about Frankie or his family that should have put them at risk. Frankie believed in people, in family, in good, and especially in the city of Chicago. Frankie hoped to create real change in the world. I challenge you not to give up on that idea. Frankie will always be our minds and forever in our hearts.

Benefit for Krystal Hethcoat, Andre Vasquez and Reyna Vasquez.

When: Saturday, January 14, 2012 at 4:00pm until Sunday, January 15, 2012 at 2:00am

Where: Marlins Bar and Grill, 7236 39th street, Lyons, Illinois
Description

On October 18th, Krystal Hethcoat and her 2 children, Andre and Reyna, were the victims of a home invasion. Two masked gunmen entered their home to rob the family, and not finding what they sought, shot Andre and Krystal. Reyna, thankfully was able to escape unharmed. Though the doctors did all that they could for Andre, he died several hours after the shooting. Krystal underwent extensive surgery and survived the two gunshot wounds to her head. She continues to improve with each passing day, she remains in the hospital in a medically induced coma awaiting more surgery.

Krystal, only 33 years old, was laid off from her sales associates position at Lee Lumber last year, after more than a decade of service to the company. She had used the change in her employment status as an opportunity, and enrolled in classes at Wright College to pursue a degree in architecural drafting, and enhance the life she had built for her family.

Andre, who loved basketball and excelled in his studies at Carl Schurz High School in Chicago, would have been 16 years old just weeks after his death. 14 year old Reyna started high school this year, attending the same school as her brother, with whom she was very close. Both children also shared very tight emotional ties with their mother, who has always emphasized the importance of family.

As you can imagine, this family has been through a very tragic ordeal. The cost of Andre’s funeral, and Krystal’s hospital bills are staggering. Now we ask that everyone come together for Krystal and Reyna, to help make this situation financially easier. A benefit will be held January 14th at Marlins Bar and Grill from 4pm till 2am. We will have DJ’s starting at 7pm, featuring B96′s Original mixmaster Tim Spinnin’ Schommer! There will be free food served throughout the night and plenty of raffles for your chance to win great prizes! If you cannot attend, but wish to make a donation, please follow the link on “OUR HEARTFELT SYMPATHIES” wall to the pay pal account that has been set up for the family. Please check back often for updates of prizes that will be raffled off. We hope to see you there, showing this family that there still is some good in this world !!!

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My grandson, ANDRE LUIS VASQUEZ, died tragically from being shot in the head during a home invasion, in his own home on October 18,2011 (Chicago,Illinois). He is (was) my first born grand child. Andre was a good student and had a good future to look forward to. He was taken way too early in his life. My daughter, Krystal was also shot. She survived and is currently fighting her way to walk again. Krystal’s loss is heartbreaking. Her first born, only son was buried while she was in a drug induced coma. Telling her was the hardest thing I have ever done. The 3 animals that did this are currently awaiting trial. They were caught within 20 minutes, thanks to 2 good citizens. Krystal’s daughter, Reyna survived without physical injury but she lost her brother and best friend.

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On Oct 18,2011 my great nephew Andre Vasquez was a victim of a home invasion he was only 16 years old . My great niece Reyna my great nephew Andre and there mother krystal were all home at the time. My great nephew Andre and my his mother Krystal were both shot in the head, Krystal did survive and is still struggling to recover but my great nephew Andre passed away 4 hours after the shooting .thankfully they missed my great niece Reyna. All were caught and they will pay for this but it will never justify for such a senseless crime.

On January 8, 2010, at 1:30 a.m., my daughter, Darien Richardson was a victim of an extremely violent crime – shot while asleep in her own bed, in her own bedroom by masked intruders with a gun in the duplex home she rented in Portland, Maine. Darien was just 25 years old at the time of this violent, armed home invasion which critically injured her, causing her to spend 20 days in the hospital enduring much physical pain and mental anguish. Darien’s life was turned upside down in one night, her physical injures confined her to a hospital bed unable to walk and she would require several more surgeries to completely recover from her wounds. She was unable to work and she was unable to return to her home all because a violent invasion of what should be her most personal sanctuary. Tragically, on February 28, 2010, Darien died – less than two months after this home invasion – due to complications from those gunshot wounds received on January 8, 2010. Darien was an intelligent, vibrant, hardworking, independent, educated – a wonderful young woman. She was a talented young woman who accomplished much in her short life but had many more hopes and dreams to fulfill. Darien was kind, helpful, generous, and loving – a productive and contributing member of society. Darien was always smiling and loved by all who had the good fortune to know her. Darien Richardson, was an innocent victim of a senseless, violent crime that cut her life far too short. Darien experienced something that no one should ever have to go through. This homicide remains unsolved.

Our family has been devastated by the loss of Darien, we love and miss her so – we will never be the same. In honor of Darien and her giving spirit we have formed a non-profit foundation to bring awareness and support to other victims of violent crimes. Please visit the site by clicking here.

Our son Matthew is truly a blessing from God. Such a good son, good person and good in every aspect. He wanted to save the world and everybody in it. Then on March 14, 2007 ,for reasons beyond comprehension, Matthew was found shot to death along with our longtime neighbors who lived just behind our home. These neighbors were people we’d known many years. Their home had an arsenal of guns and an angry 16 -year-old son. That angry 16-year-old gained access to unsecured loaded guns and confessed to shooting to death both biological parents and our beloved Matthew. I blame myself thinking if only I had taken Matt on to Jackson, Mississippi earlier to have needed surgery on his broken knee-cap. Or, why did I ask Matt to try to befriend to someone who had no friends? I never saw the red flags – only the sense of not understanding what was going on with this sociopath. I kept thinking, how can I help? My precious baby son Matthew, I praise God for every millisecond we’ve been blessed with and the loving, cherished moments we’ve shared. I yearn for you every moment of everyday and so does everyone else. One-of-a-kind and beloved by all who know you. Matthew, with all your boyish charm and sense of humor, nothing will ever be right. Nothing can compare. All the fun times with your friends. They all so love and miss you, son. Your brother Daniel and your Daddy are in a mental state I don’t have words for. It scares me and I pray to God that no other family on earth ever has to go through this mental anguish. I want to scream at our lawmakers: GUNS IN THE HOME MUST BE LOCKED UP NOW!

Manny was my only son for 17 years. He was 23 yrs old when he was shot in his neck on November 1, 2009. He was another innocent victim as we hear about more and more these days. He was married, had twins boys, and his wife was five-weeks pregnant at the time of the shooting. He worked as a barber and had attended college but never had a chance to finish. For five weeks, we took that ugly drive to the horrible trauma hospital to watch him struggle to live. His eyes were open, tears would run down his face but he couldn’t speak or move. There was nothing that I, his mother, could do to help him. I am supposed to help my son. For the first time, I was helpless. I couldn’t do anything except pray, rub his beautiful face and massage his feet, even though he couldn’t feel it. I wonder, did he know I was there? Did he know my heart was forever broken? Did he hear me tell him it would be OK, even though I wasn’t sure? Did he know I would have traded places with him in a minute. He is (was) my son! How could anyone hurt him? They didn’t even know him. They never even saw his beautiful face when they shot him. What kind of human being could do this? Not Manny. He wasn’t mean or bad. He was too cool. He loved his boys. We had no choice but to take him off life support on December 5, 2009. But I didn’t want to. I would take him any way that I could have him. At first, I thought he would have been in a wheelchair but he kept getting worse. I was so confused. He is my son, My Manny. I didn’t want to let go but I did. My poor baby. I know you wanted to be here for your babies. I know you didn’t want to leave but I know you wanted to live a life in which you could breathe on your own and walk on your own. You would be mad at me for being selfish. I did donate Manny’s organs, just in case another mom needed her son or another child needed their father. Maybe, just maybe, someone else has a chance. I still have regrets sometimes. I am selfish. I want Manny back. All to myself.

On August 15, 1996, my brother Preston took the place of a colleague who was ill, to hear a Master’s Thesis defence. The student turned the presentation into a murderous bloodbath when he pulled out a concealed gun and shot all three attending professors to death. 3 young women were widowed that day, 5 very young children were orphaned. For what? Because he had a grudge against the world and decided to use a gun to feel better? His family’s life was also ruined that day. He was 36 but will die in prison – a life wasted. My brother shouldn’t even have been there that day but for his kind heart in helping out a colleague. As well, he was the sort of man, who had he known of the student’s worries, would have gone out of his way to help him.

Frank and Judy were just married. On January 25, 1993 they were on their way to work at the CIA Headquarters in McLean, Virginia. While they stopped at a red light to turn into the main entrance, a Pakistani illegal foreign national calmly walked out of his car yielding an AK-47 assault riffle and began shooting into their car. Bullets flew through their car and into other cars. Frank was shot four times the final bullet at point blank range to his head. Declared a national hero that day, he saved his wife’s life by pushing her underneath the glove compartment. The word terrorism and complete devastation does not even begin to describe the horrific nightmare that ensued. Almost 19 years later, the pain and heartache of a beautiful life was snuffed away in the time it took a madman to squeeze off as many bullets as possible.

My brother, Jimmy, a lieutenant in the Cranston Fire Department, was shot in the back by his next door neighbor (a former cop) with a semi-automatic weapon while running for his life at his son’s 9th outdoor birthday party. A tennis ball the kids were playing with accidentally hit the neighbor’s car, an argument ensued, and Jim was gunned down in front of his entire family and neighbors. He was a longtime resident of this small community and loved by all who knew him. He was a dedicated husband and father of two, great friend to all, and a longtime civil servant. A senseless tragedy occurred due to a law that automatically grants even unstable and disenchanted cops an automatic license to carry. That was four years ago, and not a moment passes that we do not remember this wonderful, loving man and the flashbacks of that day, May 18, 2008.

My son, Robert, was shot in the head by his friend at his friend’s house. The friend’s parents left a loaded, unlocked pump shotgun under their bed. The friend says that the shooting was an accident.The boys were supposedly passing the gun and my son supposedly passed the gun to the friend with the barrell pointing to him. Robert supposedly pumped the gun himself and when the friend grabbed the gun, he accidentaly grabbed it by the trigger and pulled. That’s one of his stories. I live in Georgia where we have no child access prevention law. No one was charged with anything at all in my son’s case. It was closed the next day. We have text messages on our son’s phone that we believe prove something bad was happening in that house on the day my son was killed. Robert was shot at an intermittent range, not close range which would have been the case if the friend was telling the truth. Please visit this link to help us get a child access prevention law on the books to protect our children. How many of our children have to die? We have only 12 states that have that law in place. That’s amazing to me. Please help us get this law in place in every state that needs it. My heart is broken forever. In loving memory of my amazing son, Robert Harvell Taylor, III.

1987 was the best year and the worst year of my life. A decade of long distance, marathon running and weight training resulted in my physical health being excellent. In May of that year, I finished graduate school at USC, earning my MSW, and thus achieving my educational and professional goals. In July of l987, I was the victim of a violent crime: a bullet fired by an irrational, angry, drunk driver as I was driving down the freeway to visit a friend.

The bullet entering my head and left me paralyzed and completely dependent on other people for my most basic needs and, in addition, contending with daily neuropathic pain and spasticity. Routine daily tasks (all requiring assistance) as simple as getting dressed, going to the bathroom, eating, and moving from one place to another, are now filled with struggles that only a few can comprehend. My problems now are monumental and clearly harder to deal with than death.

Visit Paul’s “A Freeway Shooting” Blog

My father died at 49. He never knew six of his seven grandchildren. He never knew his eldest child completed four college degrees and became an ordained minister. He never knew he had four great-grandchildren. So much he never knew when he was shot and killed two days after his 49th birthday. He never visited the homes in which we lived, the businesses we ran, or read the things we published, or saw the things we crafted. If there had been no gun in his home, he would not have died such a violent death.

Gary was my friend and co worker. He was 43-years young when he was shot and killed during the early morning hours of August 6, 1999 in Cumru Township, Reading, PA. Gary was the night manager of a grocery store for more than 20 years. He was also a well-respected gospel music promoter bringing music acts to Pennsylvania for many years. Although it has been more than 12 years since Gary was shot to death, there isn’t a day that he isn’t thought of or talked about. His life impacted so many people around the country and yet we still do not know who took his life or why. I was fortunate to be one of the last people to spend time with Gary before his life was taken. He was always making people laugh and uplifting their spirits. Each day when I see the news, there is more and more gun violence. Each life taken tragically just like Gary’s, and it just continues to get worse and worse. I feel that if our lawmakers would have to endure what most crime victims (survivors ) do, they would take action. It is a known fact that the wrong people are getting their hands on guns – yet our lawmakers do not strengthen our laws. The rights of crime victims in my state (PA) are not enforced, so many victims are revictimized over and over again. When I spoke to our state representative concerning the issue, he stated several times, ‘”That’s not supposed to happen.” Well, it is happening. Our communities are not battle grounds. People who use guns to take human life need to be stopped. I watched Gary’s mother and family go through many years of torture, and since his death, not one of our gun laws has been made stronger or enforced better. Time has stood still since Gary’s murder. He is a treasured memory to myself and many others. He should still be here with us – to celebrate holidays, birthdays, special occasions. I miss his laugh, his jokes and wity sense of humor. God Bless you Gary, Rest in Peace

It has been over 16 yrs. 16 yrs of pain…16 yrs of tears!

I gained strength beyond to keep alive the Memory of Lionel, my Son. Lionel was shot and murdered inside of the car by the so called friends he was riding with. He was murdered on my Father’s 66th Birthday and 12 days before the birth of his only child, Lionel, Jr. Nobody has ever been arrested, charged or convicted for Lionel’s murder.

His Father, Big Lionel, was shot and murdered 6 yrs prior. Again, nobody arrested, charged or convicted for his murder.

Get Involved by Choice Not Force! Don’t wait until violence hits your doorstep. Remember Violence happens “From the Top of the Hill 2 the Bottom of the Hood”!

R.I.P. Lionel E.L. Whiteside -1/26/76 – 11/9/95