The devastating loss of my firstborn, Joshua (19), was and is still a shock to my very core!

More importantly, I have come a long way since his death on February 16, 2006. Had it not been for the Grace of God, I would not have made it this far. He has ‘carried’ me when I wanted to die with my son, as I looked into the eyes of my younger son, Michael, knowing I couldn’t bear to put him through the pain of losing his mother, too.

I believe I could deal with my burdensome grief more readily if I knew the truth about his death; As it stands, 40 months later, it seems as if God doesn’t want me to know, maybe for the sake of my own sanity…….

I continue to spend time on the web, hoping and praying, and someday, the truth about his suspicious death will come to light!

If there’s anyone that can make suggestions, counsel me on my grief, or just correspond with me about the loss of a child, please do not hesitate. If you’re interested in reading my son’s story: www.americaiswatching.org (Joshua Robinson)

I’ve done plenty of investigative work on this case, remaining objective, but the details were slow in coming from the PD that didn’t investigate his death…………NOW, 3+ years later, I believe Joshua was murdered by the police.

For me, who is disabled and on a fixed income, there is no justice for the less fortuntate. We all know the old saying: Money talks, and BS walks!

I will make a special prayer for those that have lost a child. Only those that have experienced such a loss can empathize. Yes, my friends and family tire of hearing about my feelings, my speculations, my instinctual signs, but although I will never give up on justice, I don’t allow Joshua’s death to take control of my life.

There is a petition attached to the site. Please support my fight for justice. So far, there are 285 signatures and in my mind, all of these peoople can’t be wrong about the miscarriage of justice.

My first most personal loss was when my second child…a daughter…was stillborn.  This had come a few months after our first child and I had made the move to the United States to join my navy husband at a new command.  This was back in ‘67 when not even medical staff were so understanding about such a loss…my daughter was whisked away immediately after delivery, we did not get to see her (in fact, when I asked I was told it would "not be a good thing", would be ‘easier’ if I did not…) while, the day following her birth I was asked to name her and we were instructed funeral arrangements needed to be made immediately.  I was very ill following Kelly’s birth thus kept in hospital for eight days during which I was awakened around five one morning, the nurse telling me ‘baby was hungry’ before she walked out of the room leaving and infant in a bassinet by my bedside.  I, in my medicated state then, thought for a few minutes that the loss of my baby had simply been a bad dream.  Thoughts of self-destruction did enter my mind also during the year which followed.  Much of my survival I attributed to my then almost 2yr. old.  I think I needed her as much if not more than she needed me then.  One thing I did learn through this experience was stillbirth seemed..umm…greatly underrated by almost everyone.  "You didn’t see her, didn’t have her home, didn’t know her…get over it…" was a general response to  my grief.  Physically, I healed…emotionally, I learned to tamp down my feelings so deeply I didn’t really deal with my grief.  Following a subsequent miscarriage four years later, we decided no more attempts, just being very grateful to have our daughter…the light of our lives.

We were privileged to raise Nikki, love her and be loved by her without even much of the angst of the turbulent teens, revelled in her graduation from college at 18yrs. of age, her joy of life.  She married young…we were ready to return to the States, (still military)…she was engaged to be married with plans for her to return with us, her fiance obtaining a fiance-status visa to join us once we were settled and they would be married but then plans changed.  We had spent almost five years being stationed back in Scotland where she had completed her education, she had many friends, my family still lived and her husband-to-be a little nervous of leaving their friends, his family, all that he had known and his career (he was an engineer).  We loved him but it was with some reluctance we gave them our blessing.  And probably the only reason we did was that when I wanted to marry my ‘foreigner’ with the prospect of moving over 3,000 miles away, my parents reluctantly had given us theirs.  If this was Nikki’s happiness who were we to decide it couldn’t be?  They married before we left to return here.  And they were happy.  We planned to return to Scotland for her 21st birthday or bring them both to the US for a celebratory vacation at that time.  However, my husband was, by then, retired from the service and the company for which he worked (a govt. contractor) needed him to be in the UK for six weeks which would encompass our daughter’s birthday so I accompanied him.  Upon meeting us at the airport, daughter and SIL excitedly told us were to become grandparents in a few months…knowing we were coming, they had waited to tell us in person.  We shared five wonderful weeks with our kids…she was still our bright, bubbly light, had a new puppy and taking in stray cats…nothing changed.  A family celebration the day of her 21st…the next day shopping with her, her grandmother and aunt.  She and I stayed over at Grandma’s.  She went to bed before midnight "to read, Mom".  Forty-five minutes later I went into the bedroom we were to share and my daughter was dead.  At the time…and for a long time afterwards…my future was gone.  Today…and it will be 22yrs. ago in three weeks…I can talk about her death in what even seems to me to be a cold, objective manner…how I feel inside is anything but.  It took several years for me to get to a new and totally different ‘normal’.  There still isn’t a day goes by she doesn’t pop into my thoughts…a song, seeing someone with their daughter and grandchild but for the most part my thoughts are memories, so much joy and gratitude that this child was a gift for the years we had her.  A few months after her death I remember thinking about friends of ours who had never had a child they longed for and, for a few moments, bitterly thought that they were lucky…they would never have to experience the darkness, the pain or losing him/her.  But then my thoughts went to life without Nikki…no, they would never experience such pain but they also never got to have the joy, the mini-frustrations of a child striving for independence, the "Can we keep this kitty, Mom?" for the umpteenth time.  Living this double-edged sword was something I did for a long time.  My life-support was in encouraging friends and family to share their memories of her with me…to allow me to talk of her, to laugh and, occasionally to cry with me.  It was a while before I could laugh…the word happy was not in my vocabulary for many years but I distinctly remember the day I did laugh again…I had heard of people crying and laughing at the same time.  Guess I didn’t know how that could be possible.  "Steel Magnolia’s" was a new movie and had just been released on video which I just had to rent.  I was sobbing through the cemetary scene when the four primary characters played out something I don’t think any of us would really imagine and then came the laughter.  I was lying on the floor of the tv room…tears had already filled one ear as I lay on my side, resting my chin in cupped hand.  They continued to flow as I laughed…and laughed and laughed.  I think the most important thing I learned then was, no matter where I went, where I was, what I was doing…never judge anyone I meet for being grumpy, angry, or anything they allow to show to the public for we can never know what their story is.  Everyone has one.  And no matter what it is, whatever has befallen them…if it is the worst thing to have occurred in their lives then for them it IS "the worst" and shouldn’t be demeaned, regardless.  Two other things…I did learn not live my life according to the expectations of others and, most importantly, learned never again to employ platitudes with others such as "I understand…."  I don’t, I never will understand how another soul feels.  I understand how I felt and feel because I understood our relationship, our dynamics, the ‘dance-steps’ of the life we shared but everyone shares their own.  At best my response is usually "If you’d want to share with me, I’m here…"  There was one harsh lesson I did learn…in what not to say.  A few months before Nikki’s death I received a phone call from a close friend, telling me a mutual friend’s 21yr. old son had just been killed in a motorcycle accident.  I was horror-stricken, could not imagine having any such thing come home to me and said "How will she ever get through this…I know I couldn’t.  It would kill me…"  Well…it didn’t, even though there were many times I wished it had but one day while talking to a colleague who had just learned of Nikki’s death (some years later, in fact) and who said to me "I cannot imagine what that must be like…I just can’t.  My kids are my life.  I love them so much and if anything happened to either of them I know I wouldn’t survive it…"  I considered for a moment then…gently…suggested that this might not be something any of us should say to another, newly grieving, parent.  Most of us already deal with the "Why am I still here…why wasn’t it me?" and not seeing any sort of future that we’d as soon self destruct.  But most of us don’t…and the feeling doesn’t go away for a very long time.  We love our children, it seemed an obscenity to me that my girl didn’t get to experience the joy of motherhood, of living her life…the music she would never hear, the books she would never read, the stories she would never tell her son.  We none of us know what we would do until we have to deal with it but it has nothing whatever to do with how much we loved or love our children and to infer as much to a grieving parent, it hurts…feels like a judgement.

My life was completely on hold for a year or two until I baby-stepped my way out of that dark.  It began with, when those who knew asked me how I was doing, I soon found the answer with which I could live.  It wasn’t "Fine" or "Okay" for I quickly learned those were lies…I was anything but.  At the same time, I think we’ve all learned we don’t want to put a blight on someone else’s day so I would answer "Doing the best I can with what I’ve got…today" and that allowed me some comfort in whatever it was that I ‘had’.  Life is good…completely different from anything I could have envisioned.  I miss Nikki…I will always miss her, think of her often and forever grateful that we shared as much of this journey as we did.  

Having been in law enforcement for over 20 years and witnessing first hand how parents who have lost their child to violence was often times a regular part of my job duties. I didn’t truly understand the PAIN but I could only sympathize with them. Until one day it hit home. 

The death of my only child who was murdered the day after Thanksgiving in 2005. My only son had just turned 24 years old. He had started his own record company and was the Minister of Music at his church. An avid musician, a father to a newborn son and a soon to be husband to his childhood sweetheart. It was devastating. A blow that hit my heart so hard, I thought I had died myself.

He had been missing since the day after Thanksgiving. His fiance came to my house early that Saturday morning to tell me that he hadn’t come home. At first, I thought he was out with friends because of the holiday and waited to leave in the morning. There were thoughts that maybe he had too much of a good time and he was either being held by the police to be Released or may had been involved in a car accident at the worst. Never would I have thought he would be dead due to being murdered.

We couldn’t find his body until two days later. His church prayed all day that Sunday for a positive turnout after he didn’t show up to play for the morning services. I knew he was gone. All I wanted to do was find him and give him a decent memorial service.

Then it happened. The murderers would call my home late that Sunday night around 10:30 p.m. to tell my sister where my son’s body was. She made me stay home and she and the rest of my family went to the scene only to find my son left in his car with a gunshot wound to his head and multiple gunshots to his body and face.  Thank God I was able to give him one of the most talked about memorial services in our area for a young man that touched so many people. Alicia Keyes management company to pay their respects, every Gospel singer came out to pay their respects among many young admirers of his music and many older folk who adored his gentleman manners and smile.

Since 2005, I have been walking around with a missing piece to my world but I have been faithful. Since that time, I have been finding solace by helping others who have experienced the same tragedy. I have been called by the Prosecutor’s office to counsel and speak as a motivational speaker to help grieving parents get back to living.

You never forget and the pain does come back every so often but as it comes you look forward to holding on to the things that made you smile and the things that stood out most about your loved one’s most adorable personality trait. Feed off of that. Live of that. Pray for peace. Find a way to always honor their memory by doing something positive for someone else. I have. I will continue to honor my son’s memory just as I am doing now. It may not seem like much to most out there but for someone my son’s tragedy and my survival story can help someone else.

Thought I would share…  

Cynthia Robinson 

You have my deepest heartfelt condolences. I went to the website and read all of your information. Your son would be proud of the work you’ve done thus far on his case.

The evidence proves the police are responsible and that the Blue Wall of Silence is in operation. The facts outweight the shoddy police explanations(lies.) There wasn’t even an attempt to solve your sons murder by the police department. They created a scenario and stuck to it.

Your scenario of there possibly being an altercation and the police went too far. I believe is right on target.

I’ve witnessed excessive force by police officers. Your son was trying to cool off. If they displayed any human decency and compassion they would’ve tried to have a conversation, console him and escort him home.  I fear they approached him and demanded he leave the park. There could’ve been a shove or a curse word involved. I’ve witnessed it happen. This is only conjecture.

At first, I thought his girlfriends family were possibly responsible. However, after reading the evidence I’m certain you’ve solved the case.

I believe you will not have to wait much longer for it to be officially solved.

My heartfelt condolences go out to everyone. I pray with time you come to know joy again and remember the joyful moments spent together. I pray they be a comfort.

Death chances ones perspective. I value life even more. I appreciate the time spent with those I love. I’m learning to live each day as though it were my last. I’d rather spend time enjoying the world rather than housework and laundry. I can be inthe middle of housework and a friend or family member will call and I’m off.

My personal affairs are in-order. I do not want to leave a mess for my family. I’ve always been an organized person.

I’ve had my share of lost and with God’s grace and mercy survived the pain. I could not have survived without God. I lost my mother, one brother age 17, a brother age 36, a sister 37 yrs of age, a niece age 4 yrs, and most recently a sister age 77, and a host of friends and acquaintances.

We live just a needle prick away from the pain. 

I can find myself laughing uncontrollably sometimes when I look in the mirror. My face has become my mother’s(lol.) I’ll find myself asking her "Can I have my own face?" The older I become the more I look like her.

I pray God continues to give us strength as we move through the rest of our journey.