Forgotten

 

by Solomon Tate

Richard Brand was not a bad kid. He was the product of shitty parenting, and an environment that bordered on destitute. He grew up angry, anxious, and alone, displaying oppositional and defiant behaviors. I met him in 1990, after he had been in a multitude of residential programs with negligible success in helping him get his life in order. He had incurred several criminal charges for assault and petty theft, and had received a couple of years probation.

He claimed that he was misunderstood. He believed that his thoughts and ideas were  unappreciated and his existence unacknowledged. He was sure that he was on his own to find his way through a world that had nothing to offer him. It was difficult to reach him, but over time, he seemed to develop trust in those who were working with him. He began to do well in school, and joined the junior basketball team, where he excelled. He developed friendships with his teammates, and seemed to be moving toward making the changes that would lead him to a better life.

An altercation with a school administrator forced him to change schools at the insistence of the school board. He gave up his friends, and his basketball, and transferred to the behavioral program. Once again, Richard found himself alone and angry. His relationships with his service providers worsened. He became abusive and threatening. Sadly, he was discharged from the only program in which he had done well, returning to the residential centres that had failed him.

I lost touch with him over the years. And then, one day, he appeared on the 6 o’clock news. He was now 22 years old, and had been charged with 1st degree murder in the death of a 29 year old man. As the story unfolded, it seems that Richard had found acceptance in one of the many street gangs that proliferated the city, and there was a matter of an unpaid debt that needed to be collected, one way or another. Richard and another young man were sent to collect payment. In the ensuing discussion about the debt, Richard pulled out a gun, and shot the man in the head. Twice. Following an investigation that included eyewitness accounts, he was apprehended and placed under arrest.

The trial was brief, with a guilty verdict as the outcome. I sat in the courtroom for the sentencing hearing. Richard saw me, but had difficulty making eye contact. He was sentenced to life imprisonment, with no chance of parole for 25 years. He was to serve his time at Collins Bay Federal Penitentiary. As he was escorted out of the courtroom in shackles, he turned to look at me, and I swear I saw him mouth the words “Thank you”.

It was the last time I saw him. Several years later, I was informed that Richard Brand had died in Collins Bay. He was stabbed to death by a fellow inmate in the shower. His grandmother claimed the body, and he was interred in the family plot in a cemetery in Jamaica. Failed by a system that consistently breeds fear and anger, and a society that is built upon the alienation of the marginalized, Richard Brand disappeared, a lost and tortured soul, as if he never even existed. Sadly, he will not be the last.