When Our Children Are Murdered; Turning Darkness into Light

It was the moment I found out that one of the sweetest, kindest students I ever taught, Gabby Kennedy, was senselessly murdered (along with her precious and loving mother, Krissy). Yes, right here in Bristol. Domestic abuse of the worst possible kind, it was. These dear souls are pictured here together below.

As I type these words, my stomach is beginning to churn. It’s almost as if I’m hearing about this heinous crime again for the first time. Such horror and heartbreak, once endured, never completely leaves our psyches.

Although it had been several years since I had taught Gabby at Van Pelt Elementary School, we had stayed in touch on Facebook. When I heard the tragic news of her death, I decided to look back at the last message she sent me. It nearly ripped my heart from my chest. “I love you, Mr. T.” she wrote. “I always will.”

Indeed, that was Gabby’s constant message to the world, my friends; a message of love and light.

Despite her unspeakable suffering (the abuse had been going on for a long period of time), Gabby maintained an uplifting spirit. She tried so hard to turn her darkness into light.

God only knows what depths of darkness Gabby hid behind her ever-present smile. God only knows what unspeakable horrors she endured during her young life, especially during her last moments in this world.

But knowing Gabby, I do know this; she would want us all to strive, as best we each can, to turn darkness into light.

To forgive what seems unforgiveable.

To go on loving people, no matter what.

To bring goodness and justice to this world, each in our own way.

As best we can.

If we can learn to turn darkness into light, my friends, then Gabby and her dear mother did not die in vain.

I am about to write down right now all the good reasons why we should be using violence as a primary method to solve problems in our homes: _____________________________

There. That didn’t take long.

I taught two nights a week at the Bristol Jail for nearly twenty-five years. During that entire time I never once accepted an excuse from a man for abusing a family member. I told them that I did not want to hear it. Plain and simple.

(I must be quick to add here that the vast majority of the inmates I taught at the jail would never molest or murder a child. These men were most often incarcerated due to the illegal use of drugs.)

At least three other former students of mine (who also all happen to be female) have been murdered.

At the tender age of fourteen, Jessica’s life was taken from her in the most brutal of ways.

Jessica was every bit as gentle and sweet as Gabby (seems the meanest among us often seek out our meekest angels).

I was teaching at the Bristol Jail when Jessica’s murderer was somehow allowed a one-on-one conference with me in the tiny jail library - regarding earning his GED degree, a test for which I helped the men study while they were inmates there.

The deputy who brought this man in to see me had just that very day begun working at the jail. He hadn’t yet been briefed on the “only” men I would not accept as students - those who had molested or harmed a child in some way. (I felt I could not bring myself to teach such men; due in part to my personal experience of having been molested by some older boys during my own childhood.)

But there this child molester/murderer sat. Right in front of me. At first, I didn’t know the depth of depravity of what he had done. As I always did with a new student, we chatted a bit. When I told him I taught elementary school during the day, he immediately became visibly anxious and uncomfortable.

“You know I’m in solitary, right?” he asked me.

My eyes turned into slits at that question. I knew what that might mean. The jail’s policy was to segregate those who were accused or convicted of child molestation, keeping them in a special cell away from the general population, therefore to protect them from the other inmates - many of whom had been victims of such terrible abuse during their own childhoods.

This man looked straight at me and said, “I reckon you’ve heard about what all they say I done to that girl.”

Then he quickly added, with a sneer, “If I did, she probably enjoyed it.”

Something in me snapped. Something deep and primal. I could not hold back, even if a loaded gun had been pointed at my head. Not only Jessica, but all the children I’d ever taught who had been abused and/or molested seemed to appear all at once in my mind.

Somehow, by a lot of luck and the grace of God - or both - this man only suffered some relatively minor bruises and contusions by the time a deputy heard the ruckus, unlocked the door, and leaped in to pull me off him. This man had not suffered any broken bones. Nor was he missing any teeth. Yet.

I am in no way “justifying” my actions toward that young man. In fact, I want to promote quite the opposite in this column - that violence is rarely the best answer to our problems. Any of our problems.

Even when confronting a child molester/murderer face-to-face

Yet another sweet and innocent child whom I once taught was murdered here in town. Jill was her name.

I also met Jill’s murderer while he was being held at the Bristol Jail. Luckily for him, there were bars between us at the time.

I attended high school with her murderer. Looking back now, I had always gotten a creepy feeling when around that man. Unfortunately, I eventually discovered why.

Then there was sweet Cassi, who was murdered in a big city far away. Her identical twin lives on … and I talk with her on Facebook from time to time.

Yes, the direct experience of such darkness can weigh like a boulder upon our souls. Indeed, such darkness can overwhelm us. Such darkness can even make us grow darker ourselves.

If we let it.

We must strive to find ways of fighting darkness with light.

My friends, if you or someone you know is currently experiencing domestic abuse of any kind, you can help shed some light. Call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 800-799-7233.

If a child you know may be suffering sexual, physical, or emotional abuse, you may call the Children’s Advocacy Center (Bristol, Tennessee or Sullivan County) at 423-279-1222. Or the Children’s Advocacy Center of Highlands Community Services (Bristol Virginia or Washington County) at 276-645-5867.

One of the best ways we can help fight unspeakable crimes toward children and families is to be vigilant of “warning signs” in the behavior of others. We need to trust our gut instincts.

No, we most definitely don’t need to go around spreading inuendo and half-truths. That would be committing a form of murder in and of itself. Gossip can and does destroy people’s lives. Too many readers have possibly been witness to such a thing.

We simply need to use common sense and have the courage to do what’s right.

We are each “called” (each and every one of us) to be a “real life” guardian angel to all children everywhere.

Not some unseen spirit from above. But WE, you and I, are the most important guardian angels that any child will ever have.

All children. Everywhere. At all times.

Let us each accept that calling.

As best we can, let us each strive to turn darkness into light.