Grief-stricken moms tell sons’ stories at Trenton candlelight vigil
TRENTON » Two moms. Two stories. Too tragic.
It has happened too many times on the streets of Trenton.
Dozens gathered Friday night for a candlelight vigil, led by council president Kathy McBride, to honor the 28 people taken by violence this year, and the victims before them, at the corner of Beakes Street and Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard.
That stretch of the North Ward knows death too well: Joseph “Power God” Gaines, a former drug dealer turned antiviolence advocate, was gunned down on Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard in 2014.
He was mortally wounded outside a makeshift memorial for Charles “X” White, who was shot to death the day before at an illegal after-hours club on the same block.
The moms each took their turn addressing the crowd from a megaphone.
Felicia Scott said her son, Jah’son Phillips, was killed after returning home from a 6-year prison bid. Court records show he was sentenced for robbery. His mom claimed he took the charge for someone else rather than rat out a friend, for fear of being labeled a snitch.
“He was home for 12 days,” she said, her voice cracking, “before they decided to take my baby. They didn’t have the audacity to shoot him in the face. They shot my son and threw him in a f**king alley like he was a piece of trash.”
Phillips, 23, was gunned down July 15 on the 800 block of Edgewood Avenue, becoming the capital city’s 20th murder victim of the year.
His mom said she never had to worry about him when he was a kid.
“That’s the one child I can say did everything right,” she said. “From what the streets are saying, they felt like he was going to become a problem.”
Tosha West still can’t walk by the Donnelly Homes housing complex. The memories come flooding back.
That’s where her son, Daquan Patterson, 27, was killed, on Sept. 22, 2019, at 1:39 p.m.
He was visiting a girl and the two planned to cook dinner when shots rang out.
“He was just caught up in the mix,” she said. “That was my only son. I can’t walk over here,” she said. “I see that boy every f**king day.”
The carnage hasn’t subsided: Trenton is at 28 and counting for the year. Police and city officials said they’re doing everything they can to staunch the bloodshed with limited resources.
Mayor Reed Gusciora announced a $1.2 million matching grant from the Department of Justice to add 10 more cops to the streets. The city must earmark $542,815 per year for the next three years.
“Trenton has had an uptick in violent crime, all made worse by a lingering health crisis and a police force that is still reeling from previous budget cuts,” he said in a statement.
The capital city hopes a $4.5 million real-time crime center that’s expected to be finished in the next year or so will also help cops deter the gunplay.
McBride, who lost her son Kenneth to gun violence in 1993, said the solutions must come from within the community.
Her 19-year-old son,
Family and friends gathered in Trenton Friday evening to memorialize recent murder victims.
Cory, never got to meet his older brother. And he knows all too well that every day is not given in the capital city.
“It’ a blessing to be able to make it to 19,” he said, calling the 28 murders “entirely unbelievable,” his mother later reciting each of their names to the huddled masses.
“We don’t want to see mothers and fathers outliving their children,” he said.
West said the victims are getting younger and younger.
“This generation is done. We gotta do something about it. And I can’t move alone. We gotta do this together. We taking out our own people.”
Scott said it’s time for parents and guardians to step.
“These grandparents needs to stop being afraid of their grandsons. You know what your grand child is out here doing. You accepting that drug money. You accepting that blood money,” she said.
North Ward councilwoman Marge CaldwellWilson commended the mothers for their strength.
The city must rally around these grief-stricken parents.
“We have not walked in those parents’ shoes. We cannot feel the pain in their heart. We don’t see them when they can’t sleep at night. We don’t see them when they’re crying all day long,” she said. “We don’t see them when they don’t want to live.”
Trenton got a glimpse Friday night as Scott and West hugged.
In that moment, they didn’t have to speak. They knew each other’s pain.