I’m lying in bed and can barely move. I just can’t get up.
I’ve experienced grief before with the passing of both parents in 1999 and 2017, respectively so grief isn’t new for me. I was able to endure those painful times quite well considering the circumstances, but not this time around.
Perhaps it was because my mom and dad were both very sick, allowing me time to prepare. Perhaps it was because I was able to say my goodbyes before witnessing them take their final breaths. Or maybe it was simply because this is the natural order of life. We as children expect our parents to go before us.
This grief is different.
This is my son, and he was murdered.
This grief is excruciating.
This grief is debilitating.
My eyes well up with tears and they begin to roll down my cheeks. I keep shaking my head. I still can’t believe John is dead.
God, please help me.
I need God’s help more than ever today because it’s going to be one of the most difficult days of my life; we have to meet with the funeral home this afternoon.
Never in a million years would I think I’d be going to speak to a funeral home to discuss my child’s funeral service.
This is backwards; it’s out of order.
It’s not the way things should be.
I shouldn’t be burying my son. He should be burying me.
It’s a huge struggle but I finally sit up. I have to get moving because we need to stop by the grocery store before meeting with the funeral home.
So, I get out of bed and slowly put one foot in front of the other.
I made it to the grocery store with my sister to pick up paper products for the tons of food dropped off by my kindhearted family and friends. I was still in a dazed state, but luckily my sister was here to help me. So much needed to be done and I could barely put a sentence together.
I looked around at everyone going about their usual day. Women zipping up and down aisles tossing food in their carts for tonight’s dinner, children begging mothers if they could pleeeeasee have cereal loaded with sugar and men struggling to find the items their wives sent them to the store to get.
I looked around with anger because I wanted scream to the world, “My son is dead! How can you just go on living?”
I grabbed a few stacks of paper plates, cups and plastic silverware and headed to the check-out line. My sister was still shopping for a few other items she wanted but I didn’t want to wait. All I wanted to do was get in line, pay for my things and get to the car before I busted out crying… again.
Since I missed the arraignment earlier today, I decided to see if there was anything online about John’s murder.
One thing I’ve learned through all this is that after the official notification, the victim’s family usually finds out information when the public does. At first, I was angry because I feel we have a right to know everything first. We’re Johns family! But after calming down, I realized law enforcement does this for a reason. They need to protect the evidence and the integrity of the investigation. So, in most cases, the victim’s family finds out when the public does.
For what it’s worth, I was glad to find out some details about the death of my son but boy, was it hard to read.
It actually took me a few hours to read the full article below and a few others because it was so painful. I kept starting and stopping. Starting and stopping. This was my son about whom I was reading.
These were the last moments of my child’s life here on earth. As I continued to read, I couldn’t help but feel how terrified he must have been. How could he not be? He was running for his life from a crazed kid with a gun!
The more I read, the more I felt my heart break; One may think the heart can no longer break once it shatters into a million pieces but that’s not true. The million pieces then break into a million more, and it repeats until a crushed soul remains.
I wouldn’t wish for a crushed soul on my worst enemy.
Not even on the one who murdered my son.
The Article
Columbus police identify man killed in Hilltop shooting; suspect in custody
COLUMBUS, Ohio — The Columbus Division of Police identified the man who was found dead in the Hilltop neighborhood Sunday night.
Officers were called on a report of a shooting in the 700 block of South Ogden Avenue shortly after 10 p.m. When police arrived, they found 28-year-old John Wilks unresponsive and had a gunshot wound. He was pronounced dead at the scene at 10:25 p.m.
Officers also found a woman nearby suffering from a gunshot wound. She was transported to Grant Medical Center and her condition was described as stable.
Columbus Police Sgt. Joe Albert said a helicopter located the suspect, 18-year-old Mehki Miller, in a vehicle. He got away from police but was later apprehended in the neighborhood after officers searched the area.
Miller was charged with murder.
Police said the shooting stemmed from a dispute between Miller and Wilks.
Records from Franklin County Municipal Court state that Miller and Wilks were fighting before the shooting happened. Miller allegedly pulled out a gun from his waistband and shot Wilks at close range. Wilks attempted to get away and Miller shot him again multiple times.
Court records say that Miller dragged Wilks’ body to a detached garage behind the shooting scene before leaving the area.
Court records did not provide details on how the woman was shot.
After reading the above article, I’ve never felt so much anger, hurt, pain and horror with how my son died. I cried so hard.
When I finally calmed down, my first thought was, now I know the name of who killed my son, and it was who I believed it to be, John’s girlfriend’s nephew. The kid who John told me was ‘trouble’ and didn’t want around because he had a gun.
Second, I will never address him by his full name. From here on out, whenever I mention him, I’ll call him ‘Miller the Killer’
Third, who was the woman in the car with ‘Miller the Killer’ and why was she in the car with him after he killed my son?
At two o’clock this afternoon, I received a new Facebook message notification on my phone. I opened the message which read:
“Can you please give me a call” followed by a phone number.
I don’t know this person personally but know who they are and know they’re close to John. They’re also connected to his murder case. Another innocent victim albeit, not of death but by association.
This person knows what happened to John the night he was murdered. I just couldn’t muster up the nerve to make that call to hear what they had to say. It was just too hard.
It’s a decision, I’ll probably regret for the rest of my life.
Discussion With the Prosecutor’s Office
July 30, 2024 12 PM
The Prosecutors office called me around noon to give me an update:
The judge set a bond at five million dollars with instructions for no contact with the victim’s family.
At this time there is only one murder charge pending. But upon further investigation, there would surely be more charges added to the case.
The next court date is 8/9/24. I’ll be notified one day in advance to attend. I can provide a victim’s statement to the judge at that time.
Tears are constantly flowing. My mind is in a fog and there’s still so much to do but I made a promise to myself. I will make it to the next hearing.
I am John’s voice, and I will speak for him.
A Message From the Prosecutor
July 30, 2024, 10 AM
I tossed and turned all night and finally fell asleep around six in the morning. It was a light sleep, so I could still hear my message notifications alerting me of each new call.
When I woke up around ten, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and began to check my messages. There was one from Kristine at the Prosecutors’ office. She spoke very quickly. I could tell this was business as usual for her but not for me. It was verypersonal .
After introducing herself, she proceeded to say, an arraignment for John’s murder case is being held this morning at nine. We could attend if we wanted to give the judge a victim’s statement. Our presence wasn’t mandatory so if we didn’t make it, that was okay. She would call us later with an update after the hearing.
I wish I had been awake to receive her message. I wanted to make a victim’s statement to the judge and tell the judge everything I’m feeling right now; Rage. Devastation. Heartbroken. Pain. Violated in the worst way imaginable.
But I received the message too late so I missed it.
After notifying my family about John’s murder, the next thing I did was announce it to the world.
I’m very active on several Social Media platforms, especially Facebook and X (Formerly known as Twitter), so instead of making personal calls to every friend and extended family member, I decided to post the tragic news on my Facebook page.
I’m also a lifelong Michael Jackson fan and have met many wonderful MJ fans (Moonwalkers) from all over the world, so announcing it on my social media accounts was the only way to let them know about John’s death.
My mind was still in such a fog but I wanted to let everyone know as soon as possible.
So, I sat down and made a post on my Facebook page
I couldn’t read the flurry of comments under my post but so many people responded with shock and condolences.
It was the early morning of July 29, 2024; 4:00 AM to be exact. A loud pounding on our door jolted us out of our sleep. We’ve had knocking on our door in the middle of the night before whenever John had arguments with his girlfriend so we thought this was the case again.
Ronnie got up to answer the door. I then heard some murmuring in the kitchen downstairs. Usually after that, I would hear John come up the stairs, go to his old room and get into bed for the night to get some well-needed peace, quiet and sleep. But this time, Ronnie called my name and asked me to come downstairs.
I grabbed my robe and went down to the kitchen. When I got downstairs, I saw two men standing in front of the island. They introduced themselves as Detectives from the Columbus Police Department and asked if we were John’s parents.
Of course, we said “yes.”
Detective Jude proceeded to tell us John was in an argument with his girlfriend earlier that evening.
This was a common occurrence.
Ronnie then said, “Okay, so is he outside in your car? Does he need to stay here tonight?”
He looked at both of us and shook his head, no.
“I’m sorry, but there was a shooting last night, and John is gone. He didn’t make it.”
What?
Gone?
Gone where?
He’s dead?
I had to ask him to repeat what he said several times because I was still half asleep and not quite comprehending.
Was this a dream?
No, it was a nightmare that was all too real.
A mother’s worst nightmare.
My son was dead!
My son is dead?
I stood there in a daze and struggled to speak.
Ronnie stood a few feet away in total disbelief.
“Oh my God! No!” was all I could say over and over again as tears began to pour out of my eyes like water from a faucet. I honestly don’t remember what I did next but somehow, I was sitting at the top of the stairs crying uncontrollably.
Ronnie was crying too when he found me. He reached out his hand and escorted me back down to the kitchen to answer some questions from the detectives.
The detectives asked if we knew various people who were at the scene of the crime but we weren’t familiar with them. We only knew John’s girlfriend. He would complain about the kind of people she associated with, criminals and addicts. The kind of people John was never around growing up because we didn’t raise him that way. He told me there were times, in the past, drug addicts would come knocking on their door and he had a major problem with that. He also didn’t like who she allowed in the house and they argued about it. Because of that, he never wanted me there and I didn’t want to be there either.
Now look what happened to him. My son knew it was best for me to stay away from there.
When I was able to think more clearly, I began to ask the detective for the exact details. They couldn’t tell me because the crime was still under investigation. I don’t even remember him mentioning the name of the killer but I’m sure he did. I knew it was the 18-year-old kid who I thought was John’s girlfriend’s nephew. This nephew began coming over to their house three months prior to John’s murder. A kid who John said was “trouble”. Someone John didn’t want anywhere near their house or him.
But his girlfriend didn’t listen. She kept letting that kid come to their house and now my son was dead. Murdered by someone who doesn’t value life. By someone who shouldn’t have even been there.
John’s life mattered!
Why did this happen?!
I didn’t have much time to sit and ponder why. Since the next of kin had been notified, Detective Jude told us the news would then be able to update their initial story and share John’s identity with the public.
He advised us to notify our family and friends as soon as possible. We should tell them about what happened to John, not the news.
The detectives turned to walk toward the door.
“Wait” I said.
“Can we go see John? Where is he?”
Detective Jude shook his head and said “Not at this time. The Coroner will give you a call, but his body won’t be released until the autopsy has been completed and you have a funeral home that can go pick him up.”
Again, the tears began to stream down my face as I said,
“But I want to see my son now! “He’s in a cold dark place and he’s all alone. I need to be with him. I don’t want him to be alone!
Detective Jude said he understood but there was protocol that must be followed since this was a homicide. I was then handed his business card and told the Prosecutors would call me soon to discuss the legal process and to call him if I had any questions about the case. He reminded me again, to call my family as soon as they left because John’s name would soon be released to the public.
And with that said, they were out the door.
Ronnie looked at me in disbelief and I still had the look of horror all over my face. We hugged each other and cried for what felt like an eternity but in reality, it was just a few minutes because we had phone calls to make, and these calls were the most difficult calls I’d ever made.
The first call was to my sister, Cindy, who lives out of state. I call Cindy my “sister-mom” because ever since our mother passed from colon Cancer in 1999, Cindy has become like a mother to me. She’s my confidant. She’s my rock and luckily for me, after telling her the horrific news, she was on the next flight to Columbus.
I needed her now more than ever.
We then had to tell my daughter and granddaughter, John’s eight-year-old daughter, what happened to him. I thought it would be best to tell both of them in person, and these were the most heart-wrenching conversations I’ve ever had, especially to my granddaughter.
Absolutely heart breaking.
Ronnie then made phone calls to break the news to his family while I also called a few more people on my side as well, including my brother who couldn’t believe what I was telling him.
Not John.
I still can’t believe someone murdered my twenty-eight-year old son.
He was so young and had his whole life ahead of him.
And now my life will never be the same.
This beautiful picture was created by my friend @MJcoolMJFan on X
