He came hard, shiverin’ through it while I rubbed his back and held him in place, lettin’ him bury his face into me until the trembles stopped and his breath slowed down.
We laid there afterward, our bodies tangled, our hearts heavy and neither one of us speakin’ ‘cause sometimes quite said more than any words ever could.
I sat in my office, trying to get a grip on my emotions without exploding because every thought that passed through my mind carried the weight of my sons’ faces, and the longer I sat there, the more impossible it felt to hold myself together.
The lamps along the walls gave off a warm glow, yet nothing in this damn room felt comforting anymore. The polished wood, the framed degrees, the shelves filled with books that once meant something to me all felt like decorations for a life I no longer recognized.
I had spent weeks inside this office preparing press conferences, signing endless documents, reviewing evidence, and standing in front of cameras with my voice steady as I assured the public that justice would be served, yet the truth was that every night when the world finally left me alone, I broke in ways no man should ever have to break.
My sons were gone…
Rioh…
Jaqwon…
Two pieces of my heart were taken in one afternoon, and the world expected me to conduct myself with grace.
I clenched my hands and forced them flat against the desk because I could feel something inside me pushing to the surface. It was something that refused to be soothed no matter how deeply I breathed. I had watched my boys grow into men. I had hoped to watch them become fathers someday. I had seen every stubborn argument, every victory, every laugh, and every trouble they got themselves into, yet none of it prepared me for the reality that I would never see them walk through my front door again.
And the man who killed them was sitting at home on bond as if my children were meaningless.
Mikel Marston had betrayed me. He had granted a bond to that criminal even after everything we discussed behind closed doors. For years I had supported him, trusted him, and lifted him in every political room we shared. I vouched for his judgment when the public questioned it. I defended his decisions when critics tore him apart. I called him a friend. A man like that should have stood with me, not against me.
Yet when it came time to deny Kay’Lo Mensah a bond, Mikel faltered.
He looked me in my eyes and still allowed that murderer to walk free.
I pressed my fingers into the desk until my arms trembled because if I let go, I knew exactly what I wanted to do with these hands. The rage rolled through me harder with every memory, and although I reminded myself to be rational, my heart refused to be reasoned with. I wanted Kay’Lo Mensah dead. I wanted to remove him from this world with my own hands. If it werenot for the laws I swore to uphold, I would drag him out of his home, tie him to the oldest tree on this island, and make sure he understood the pain of a father watching his sons die. The thought alone filled my chest with a sharp pressure that made it difficult to sit still.
The public believed I was strong. They believed I was holding my family together with grace. They watched me speak on camera and assumed the calmness in my voice meant I was coping well. They had no idea how often I sat right here in this office long after midnight with my head in my hands, asking God why He allowed this fate to touch my home. I cried for my boys. I cried for my wife. I cried because the world kept moving while my family’s life had been ripped apart.
And the one person who carried blame above all others was Abeni Mensah.
She walked through this island as if she were its queen, touching everything she wanted and destroying anything she disliked. She smiled at reporters like she had a halo over her head, yet I knew the truth that lived behind her eyes. She was ruthless. She was cold. She believed the island belonged to her family because of her influence and her wealth. For her nephew to kill my sons and then look me in the face during that hearing like he felt justified burned a hole so deep through my patience that I could barely sit still.
I replayed that courtroom scene over and over in my head. The way she sat there with her hands folded neatly in her lap like the whole situation amused her. The way her voice stayed warm and polite as she cut into me in front of everyone. She spoke about my daughter as if she were some foolish child whose actions invited violence, and even though her words were smooth, the disrespect underneath them was loud enough to make the entire courtroom shift in their seats.
Then the lawyer beside me collapsed.
He choked until his face turned pale, and the room erupted into chaos while she continued to stare at the judge with that calm expression that could make a grown man sweat through his clothes. I could not prove she was behind it, yet every part of me believed she was. Nobody else in that room had that type of presence.
Abeni was dangerous, and she knew that I knew it.
I closed my eyes, but it only made the grief sharper. I saw Rioh’s smile. I heard Jaqwon’s laugh. I saw them standing side by side on the front lawn the morning before everything happened, and the memory made my body shake. I opened my eyes again and looked around the office because the silence was growing heavier by the second.
I refused to let this be the end of their story.
I refused to let the Mensah family walk away from this unscathed.
If the justice system failed me, then I would take matters into my own hands because nothing in this world mattered more than my children. I would burn the entire island to the ground before I allowed their names to disappear into the noise of everyday life.
The grief rose again, sharp enough to push me out of my chair. I straightened my suit jacket and left the office because sitting there was starting to feel like drowning. The hallway to the bedroom felt too long, yet every step reminded me why I was fighting. When I reached the door, I paused for a moment because I needed a second to collect myself. My wife had been shattered by this tragedy in ways that made my own suffering feel doubled. I pushed the door open quietly and stepped inside.
Jamie stood near the tall window with her back to me, and the moonlight fell across her black silk gown, making her look like a shadow that was losing its strength. Her natural hair fell down her back, thick and beautiful even with the grief weighingher shoulders down. Her body trembled in a way that told me she had been crying far longer than she let anyone see. The sight of her like that hollowed something inside me, and I approached her slowly so I did not startle her.
When I reached her, I rested my hands lightly on her arms. Her body shivered beneath my touch, and the sound of her breathing broke something deep in my heart. I leaned in slightly, whispering her name even though my voice felt trapped behind the pain.
She turned around with her eyes red and swollen, and the moment our gazes met, I felt my heart fracture again. Jamie had always been the center of my world. She was the person I protected, the person I built everything for and the person I would die for without hesitation. Seeing her like this was a different kind of torture because it reminded me that I had failed to shield her from the worst pain a mother could feel.
