A MOTHER’S CRY



The screams of the grieving mother could be heard through the gathering crowd that started to grow as the police taped off the area. “Man… don’t let that be his mother,” I said, as I looked through the viewfinder of my camera trying to get that close up shot that would shock the world. “Oh Lord, Lord, Lord… don’t let that be my baby,” she said, shaking as she made her way to the front of the line of the crowd. I watched her as she broke through the yellow tape and made her way across the crime scene. “No, no, no, no,” she said, shaking her head as she was met by a police officer. “Ma’am, you will have to wait behind the line,” he told her as he pointed to where the others and I were standing.


“I just want to see,” she said, as she jerked away and ran towards the lifeless body. The officer ran after her, caught her, and placed her in a choke hold, prompting the crowd to cry out in disbelief. “That’s that man’s mother,” one man yelled, as a youngster no more than 12 broke the line yelling, “let my mama go, let my mama go”.   For a moment it looked as if a riot was about to break out. The crowd started to move fast, as other police officers rushed from where they were to the aid of the officer, who was restraining the grieving mother.


“Back up, back up… give me 50 feet,” the officers yelled as they pulled out their batons and cans of mace. “Man, please don’t make them use that sh!t,” I said, as I covered my face with my shirt. I had seen this scene many times before, this is the norm for a murder scene in the inner-city.     The overwhelming smell of alcohol entered my lungs as I took a deep breath of relief that nothing had taken place. It was the child’s mother standing face to face with me as I turned from my camera to look at the crowd.


Is that my child Silky she asked with tears in her eyes. No I said, as I turned back to make sure my camera was still recording the scene. Let me see she pleaded with me as she tried to take a look inside of my viewfinder. I told you it is not I said in a stern voice, to assure her I was being truthful with her. Oh yes it is I can tell by his jeans she said, as she looked coldly into my eyes. If you already know why are you asking me I replied with a sign of disgust on my face.



Please tell me she desperately pleaded as I continued to shake my head to assure her it wasn’t him. As I continued filming the crime scene, I asked the Lord to forgive me for lying to her for I knew that nothing could be farther from the truth than the words I had just spoken to her. I watched as a young man grabbed her by the arm and lead her to a waiting car. It looked as if she passed out as soon as she took a seat on the passenger side of the car. A bystander pushed her legs in the car and slammed the door shut, I watched as the driver sped off down Plank Road. The names, faces, and places often change but the crime remains the same. Murder, murder, murder is all that is seen on a daily basis in any city of America. The victims, most of them young black African American males ages 13 through 27, leaves behind many grieving mothers who never fully recover from the lose of their child.

A Teaser from the book “A MOTHER’S CRY ” BY: SILKY SLIM

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