What Is Justice?
After 17 long months, Valerie and I finally had the opportunity to sit with the District Attorney, hoping—praying—for justice for our beloved son, Shemar.
But instead of peace, we were met with a gut-wrenching blow: a plea deal. The man who took our son’s life—this monster—may serve only 13 to 16 years.
As we sat and listened to the detective’s interview with the murderer, it was like being stabbed all over again. He showed no remorse. He laughed. He grinned. He acted as if this tragedy, this irreversible pain he caused, was just a joke.
He flipped the narrative and blamed Shemar—a young man who is no longer here to defend himself. He tried to paint himself as mentally unstable, shifting personalities as if playing a role, as if that would excuse his actions.
So I ask again: what is justice?
Is justice the death penalty?
Is justice life in prison without parole?
Is justice 13 to 16 years behind bars?
None of these outcomes will bring our son back.
In the state of North Carolina, the death penalty is reserved for specific cases involving law enforcement, the elderly, or children—criteria this case does not meet. So where does that leave families like ours? Where is the justice when your child is murdered in broad daylight for nothing—absolutely nothing—and the system hands down a sentence that feels more like a slap in the face than accountability?
We trusted this system. We believed it would fight for Shemar like we have fought every day since that tragic moment. Instead, we were left with heartbreak—again.
What Valerie and I want is simple: justice.
Not vengeance.
Not theatrics.
Just fairness.
Just accountability.
Just something that says Shemar’s life mattered.
I believe in God. I believe in His law. “Thou shall not kill” is not a suggestion—it is a commandment. And while this man may escape full justice here on Earth, I take some comfort in knowing he cannot escape God’s judgment.
Still, imagine this:
Your child is taken from you in broad daylight.
You wait 17 months—17 unbearable months—believing justice will come.
And then, it doesn’t.
How would you feel?
We are devastated.
We are heartbroken.
We are angry.
We are still standing.
Because even in our pain, we will continue to speak Shemar’s name.
We will fight. We will remember. We will not be silenced.
And we will never stop seeking justice.
