pjmedia.com Dear Quinton,
We will probably never know why your mother decided that her drug habit was more important than you. We will probably never truly know why your mother could look into your precious little smiling face, beat you to death, throw your tiny body in a dumpster, and then go out with her mother and do shots at a local bar. We hang our heads that your remains were found in a landfill, and no one in your family seemed willing to turn the world upside down to find you.
Your smile reminds me of my grandson when he was your age, happy and full of life. And I am so very sorry that the people who you trusted to raise you and love you felt that their needs — no, make that their wants — chose themselves over you. There was so much life in your little face. So much potential. I and countless others mourn your passing.
We also mourn the passing of so many other precious lives in places like Chicago, New York, and across the world. Little souls of all nationalities and colors who were so full of potential and who left this world far too soon. Little souls who just wanted to laugh, and play and grow, whose bodies are in the ground.
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Caravan to Midnight
