I BELIEVE IN YOU
PRAY THE BLOOD OF JESUS OVER OUR CHILDREN! @ LAZARUS JONES SAVE OUR CHILDREN CAMPAIGN
Save Our Children!!!
Read more: http://socyberty.com/activism/can-we-save-our-children-2/#ixzz1XljybKxI
###A Hammer wow that's a flash back for me when this happen to my son Lazarus RIP. To ALL parents PLEASE our city streets are NOT SAFE! Let me say this aging. To ALL parents PLEASE our city streets are NOT SAFE! If you have a child that is from the age of 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,15,16,17,18,and if in collage taking the CTA also PLEASE take them to school and back. And for the parents that allow your child to still go out to play "MAKE SURE YOU ARE WITH YOUR CHILD AT ALL TIMES WHEN THEY ARE ON THE CITY STREETS. That is NOT SAFE for our CHILDREN!!!!!!! May GOD be with ALL YOUTH! PRAY the "BLOOD OF JESUS over your CHILDREN everyday!!! Thanks do pray that your eyes and ears were open for this message! Amen..
14-year-old boy on life support after street attack in Logan Square neighborhood
A 14-year-old boy was on life support this morning after he was severely beaten in the head, possibly with a hammer, while walking Tuesday evening in the Logan Square neighborhood, police said.
Teen shot in Rogers Park speaks out
A 13-year-old shot in Rogers Park Monday is out of the hospital and talking about his ordeal.
ALL IN THE NAME OF "LAZARUS" R.I.P
Lazarus Jones (R.I.P1993-2007) Lazarus day of birth June 6, 1993 Eight pounds, 1 ounce. ST. Mary's Hospital Lazarus was born 5:59 a.m. Hairy as a bear. His father named him Lazarus, a biblical figure who, according to the New Testament, died and was resurrected by Jesus. Lazarus was my second child. I've always said he had my eyes, and hair and my heart. Lazarus was small, but his dad called him "muscle man." Lazarus liked Matchbox cars and vanilla ice cream, smooth jazz and summer days at the pool. Lazarus loved to eat Hot Pockets. By the time Lazarus reached 8th grade at Budlong Elementary School, his hair was long and braided. Lazarus did well in school. Teachers praised him, and he was excited about high school. In a journal for a class, he wrote: I’m going to have a good life. And if anyone doubts me, I don't care for them.
Sometime after 8p.m. on Feb. 19, 2007, Lazarus was walking home from a friend's house. That night he was with a few friends, walking east on Lawrence Avenue, the night light by neon storefront signs and the headlights of passing cars. It was almost 40 degrees, but the sidewalk was icy. On Lawrence and North Troy Street, several men jumped from a van. Police believe the men were gang members who thought Lazarus and his friends were in a rival gang. Teachers, friends and family members say that Lazarus steered clear of trouble, and the police have found nothing to indicate Lazarus had any gang involvement. There was no need for me to believe that I will get a fatal knock at my door.
The police arrived at my door and took me to the hospital. They wheeled me into the room where my Lazarus lay dying at children’s memorial hospital a machine beeped each time my son Lazarus heartbeat. I told the doctors to keep it turned on I wanted to hear my son heart beep, even as the beats began to fade. I massaged my son Lazarus foot. It was so cold, and i couldn't make it warm. Lazarus was brutally beaten to death on the north- side of Chicago on 02-20-07 at the age of thirteen. In one night his dreams were taken from him. Lazarus attended Budlong Elementary School I am now the voice of Lazarus, speaking to save all children from violence. My heart’s desire is to stop the violence in order to prevent other parents from experiencing the pain of burying their children. I have traded my quiet nature in, for public activism, rather than suffer beneath the rubble of my grief. In the name of Lazarus I dedicated my time and efforts into creating such programs as Parents Control Protection, which is designed to provide protection for our children as they go to and from school.
In losing my son Lazarus Jones at the age of thirteen to violence on February 19, 2007, my life took a turn. My vision and purpose is now primarily on the safety of all children. I was pregnant with my third son Israel Rome Bass when this tragedy struck me. I chose to use my pain as a source of strength and a voice against violence in honor of my son Lazarus. I began to Post flyers all over the city streets, stick my head in shop doorways and simply ask questions to try to get closer to the answer to all who murdered my son? I struggled to keep my emotions in check and to look people in the eye. In my soul I knew I could not break down. I said to God, please give me the strength and I had it.
Looking for answer on how this could have happened, I marched against violence, choking back tears long enough to become a voice for my son. It has been painful, stressful, I experienced a tremendous amount of anger, and I almost lost my faith in God. I told myself, I am his mother and this is what I have to do. The death of my son took a hunger and love from the pit of my soul that inspired me to be an activist for the safety of all children. The days that followed Lazarus murder were a blur of tears and sleepless nights, funeral plans and flashes of memory. But I recall one moment clearly, a phone call from a church pastor whom I never met. Rev. Charles Lyons of Armitage Church had heard about my son Lazarus death. Pastor Charles Lyons he gathered $10,000 in reward money and a prayer vigil at the site of were my son Lazarus was beating to death. I thank God for great angle like Pastor Charles Lyons.
It was really devastating for me to even think about being there. But I did it because I knew anything I could do for my son Lazarus would help.
On a frigid Sunday morning, six days after Lazarus death, I stood in the snow with about 100 others on the corner where my son Lazarus was killed. In a very weak voice, I spoke saying I forgave those who took my son Lazarus life. But I want them found, punished, kept from hurting another mother’s child. With the help from love ones we hung fliers announcing the reward throughout the neighborhood. I struggled to keep my emotions in check, to look people in the eye. I had to be my son’s voice, in my soul I know I can’t break down. God please give me the strength. Then my lips started to tremble and my eyes filled with tears. I have it but I’m dying inside. When we were done, I was exhausted. But for the first time in days, my head felt clear. After the rally I stayed at my sister home. Waiting for police to call and say they had a suspect. This made me fueling to act. No one in suspect yet it’s been 3years now but I will never keep silence at all silence kills!
I reach out to politicians, advocating for a police camera at the intersection where Lazarus died attended other meetings and prayer vigils. I spent time with reporters from a nearby high school newspaper, answering questions about my son that I know would make me weep. Anything to let people know the case was unsolved and the pain was still real. None of this was comfortable. But I had to learn that comfort wasn’t what I needed at all. What I needed was a way to keep living in a world without my son Lazarus.
On March 29.2007 just five weeks after Lazarus died, I found myself in an auditorium at the University of Illinois, Max Cerda, a good friend who I meet the day after Lazarus was killed, from the Anti-Violence group Ceasefire summit on the widespread impact of gang violence. Told me to come with him on that day and I did, happy to say this was a bless day for a mother to be able to talk about my son Lazarus.
The room was filled with academics and business executives.
First Lady Laura Bush was seated near the stage. Secret Service agents and media lined the walls. I squirmed in my seat, wishing I could run back to my apartment to obtain some of my son's writings so I could share them, and then I realized I was in this place for a purpose. I spoke into the microphone and stated my purpose of being there in honor of Lazarus, “Hello, my name is Pamela Hester-Jones,” I said, “My son Lazarus was beaten to death on Feb. 19, 2007. Police still don’t know who killed my son Lazarus, but they continue to investigate. I've share all I had actively done, and all I was determined to do. I then attended and held many different events against violence.
On April 23, 2007 while attending a prayer visual for another child, who was shot to death on the north Westside of Chicago, my water broke. After this I spent five weeks in Evanston Hospital. My son Israel was not due until July, but I had him on May 27, 2007. He was six weeks early. I thanked God for him on that day and every day to come. I held a safety back to school march in May of 2009 at the school Lazarus attended, Budlong School at 2701 W. Foster Av We marched from the school to Daman avenue then back. On Sep 26, 2009 I spoke as an advocate against violence in the community at Act Now Youth Organization kickoff celebration. On Oct 17, 2009 I held a Prayer Vigilant to stop the violence at Truman College, 1145 W. Wilson Chicago Illinois. I plan to continue being an activist in the community against violence.
I am a member of National Association of Professional Women
I collaborated with Wisdom Lives Here Founder Charlene Davis, United For A Cause Founder Dawn M Valenti , Friday Night Jam Pastor Donald Mayes, Purpose Over Pain and Blair Holt Peace Alliance Founder Annette Holt/ Ronald Holt, Peas In Their Pods Founder Gaetane Borders/ Janice Lowery Chief Executive Officer, The Black Star Project / I am Deborah It is my vision to be involved with other organizations to make a different in our communities.
Pamela Hester- Jones Mother of Lazarus Jones Founder and President/Advocate Against Violence/Community Speaker- All Donations can be sent to: Lazarus Jones Save Our Children Campaign P.O.BOX 257474 Chicago, IL 60625 773-386-0750 Lazarusjonessocc@yahoo.com www.lazarusjonessocc.org
REWARD OF $10,000 For information leading to the conviction of the murderer of
13 year. Old
Call Chicago Police Dept. at 312-742-4410 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting 312-742-4410 end_of_the_skype_highlighting or Armitage Baptist Church at 773-384-HOPE
Ohanian Comment: Kudos to the Chicago Tribune for noticing that the city's children are dying. And their classmates left behind our suffering, as are their teachers.
Desolation, loss, nightmares plague those left behind at schools throughout Chicago.
By Stephanie Banchero
Angela Rozas and Alexa Aguilar contributed to this report.
At Avalon Park Elementary School, the 8th graders in Room 104 still wrestle with the pain.
It's in the eyes of the young man who cannot bring himself to talk about last month's brutal stabbing death of his classmate and best friend, 14-year-old Quinton Jackson. It's in the tears of the girl reading a poem about missing Quinton's smile and his mischievous antics. It's in the unsettled voice of the child who recounts recent nightmares of dead bodies and coffins.
Upstairs, in Room 301, the pain exists, but it's harder to see.
The teacher sees it, however, in the quiet temperament of the little boy who sits alone in the cafeteria because his best friend, Quinton's 12-year-old brother, Marquise, is no longer there to eat with him. Marquise, too, was stabbed to death in an attack last month. But his friend sits there, alone, in the lunchroom, as if waiting for Marquise to show up.
This is how the violent death of a student unhinges a school.
Whether attacked at home, like the Jacksons, or shot on a bus, like Blair Holt, the deaths damage the community inside the school walls.
So far this school year, at least 27 Chicago Public Schools students have been killed. That's one young life every 10 days.
District officials do not keep an official tally, but they know 20 students have been shot to death -- matching the highest total since they began tracking it nine years ago. The Tribune has identified seven more students who were beaten, suffocated or stabbed to death.
Last week was especially deadly. A Hyde Park High School student was killed Monday. A few days later, Blair Holt, a junior at Julian, was shot to death while riding a CTA bus home from school. On Friday, the body of a 14-year old Cameron Elementary School student was found in an abandoned house.
Each death brings a conflicting mix of pain, anger, depression, denial and fear.
Students at Avalon Park talk about nightmares. They worry they might be killed. Some are consumed with guilt about not being nicer to the kids who died.
They cry themselves to sleep. They wake up in the middle of the night. And they sit in school and stare blankly, trying to understand what happened.
"I just feel sad," said Jeremy Watson-Freeman, 14, who sat next to Quinton. "He was my best friend. I miss him."
Even in a high school, death imposes a broadly shared burden. Students at Julian expressed anger during a school walkout this week. But they also spoke of anguish.
"We've lost so many friends," said Ashley Campbell, a senior and friend of Blair's. "You just feel so helpless."
Schools Chief Arne Duncan called the deaths "horrifying." If 20 students were shot and killed in Winnetka or Barrington, the outcry would be deafening and residents and politicians would mobilize for gun control, he contended.
"But somehow, because these are inner-city kids from Chicago, people see their lives as less valuable or more expendable," Duncan said. "Overwhelmingly, these were children doing the right thing, trying to get an education."
When a student dies, the district sends in a crisis team of social workers, psychologists and nurses. Each death, each school, requires a different response. Social workers often push students to express feelings through sympathy cards, pictures and poetry. Avalon Park children crafted dozens of cards for Quinton and Marquise's mother, Quince Jackson.
Grief is difficult for adults but can be even more confusing for children. They tend to spend a lot of time in denial, refusing to accept the death or the emotions that go along with the loss, counselors say.
"At first, you don't see profound pain, but rather anger and questioning," said Beverly Covington, a nurse at Hartgrove Hospital, who works with the crisis team.
"You can't take them right to acceptance," she added. "You have to let them be where they are and then help them heal."
At Avalon Park, the healing is just beginning.
Marquise and Quinton were popular, integral pieces of the patchwork quilt at Avalon. Three weeks after their deaths, the staff and children at the South Side school struggle to transcend the loss.
The boys have not been in school since April 25, the day before they were stabbed to death at their home, allegedly by their mother's boyfriend. But inside the three-story red-brick schoolhouse, it feels like their deaths happened yesterday.
On a bulletin board in Room 104 hangs Quinton's reading assignment. Under the word "commend," he drew a picture of his teacher handing him a paper with a big red "A" on it. Above the teacher's head is a bubble: "Great Job Quinton!" An empty chair is pushed against a wall, absent the gentle and respectful teen who used to occupy it.
After a memorial service for the boys last week, a crisis counselor asked Quinton's classmates how they were doing.
"I'm feeling angry because he was my friend," said 14-year old Brittany Leonard. "Sometimes I just want to cry."
"It's not fair," said LaShonda McClinton, 14, who wrote a poem expressing sadness that her friend would not be there for graduation.
Kaamilah Patterson, 13, recalled how Quinton would fall asleep in class. Sometimes, she admitted with a slight giggle, the students sitting next to him gave him the answers to tests.
"We had his back," she said. "I think I'm going to miss that the most."
Connie Senter, coordinator of the crisis team, encouraged students to recount their favorite memories of Quinton.
"This is how the healing begins," she said.
Upstairs, in Marquise's classroom, one tiny desk sits empty, its contents already cleaned out. On the teacher's desk rests Marquise' black-and-white journal where he wrote about how much he loved his mom and adored barbecue chicken. If he were president, he wrote, he would create a "secret club for kids and give them drivers licenses."
Teacher Kevin Wiley said the seven students in his 5th-grade homeroom, six boys, prefer not to discuss what happened. On the blackboard, one of them wrote, "RIP Marquise and Quinton."
Wiley says his boys have been acting out more since Marquise's death. They start fights and pick on each other.
"They try to hide it, act like tough guys," he said. "But I know they are hurting."
Teachers are not immune to the loss. Avalon Principal Geraldine Laury said she has found teachers sobbing. Staff members come into her office and break down at the mere mention of the Jackson boys.
"Our hearts are heavy," she said.
Quinton's teacher, Ernestine Jefferson-Martin, said the most painful part is watching her students cope with the loss.
"It's a family in here and I am the mother," she said. "I know how every child will react. I know who will cry and I know who will try to hide it. I can see and feel all the hearts of my children and I know there are a lot of broken hearts."
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KILLED THIS SCHOOL YEAR
Fernando Haywood, 17, Sept. 11
Samuel Spicer, 19, Sept. 12
Delmont Fulton, 15, Sept. 18
Jelisa Baker, 15, Sept. 27
Toreon Baker, 15, Nov. 4
Luis Hernandez, 19, Nov. 9
Dantel Curtis, 14, Nov. 11
Antonio Harris, 19, Nov. 24
Jose Hernandez, 18, Nov. 30
Laura Joslin, 12, Nov. 23
Marcel Collins, 17, Dec. 17
Troy Lee, 9, Dec. 18
Devin Standifer, 16, Dec. 19
Lupita Hernandez, 18, Jan. 18
Dijohn Childs, 15, Jan. 30
Andrik Shaw, 17, Feb. 9
Lazarus Jones, 13, Feb. 19
Kenneth Jones, 16, Feb. 22
Victor Casillas, 15, March 19
Christopher Pineda, 17, March 30
Richard Chambers, 19, April 10
George Carrasquillo, 15, April 20
Quinton Jackson, 14, April 26
Marquise Jackson, 11, April 26
Christopher Watson, 16, May 7
Tashema Nero, 14, May 9
Blair Holt, 16, May 11
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READER CONNECTION A fund has been established for the Jackson family.: Jackson Fund, Seaway National Bank, P.O. Box 19522, Chicago, IL 60616
— Stephanie BancheroChicago Tribune2007-05-16