I was taking care of his kids, going to work, and helping my other children process their brother’s murder. I couldn’t have accomplished what I needed to if I had cried sooner.

If I see a car that looks like Darien’s or the sunlight hits just right, all of the sadness comes flooding back.

I’d put up reward posters, hoping somebody would say they knew what happened. Someone knew something, but they just wouldn’t give me any answers.

After a neighbor fatally shot her son in 2001, Dr. Dorothy Johnson-Speight started the anti-violence group Mothers in Charge. “I thought maybe two people would show up; the room was jam packed.”

Demetrius Buckley thought his bond with his 11-year-old daughter was strong. But when he couldn’t physically protect his child from adult problems, he learned the limits of parenting via prison phone calls.

Imprisoned for 25 years, Fred Weatherspoon was shocked to return to a Chicago he didn’t recognize. He found belonging in an unexpected way — working with vulnerable young people and their families.

Recently reunited with his 10-year-old daughter, Demetrius Buckley struggles to push past the barriers of a maximum security prison to be present for his curious, whip-smart little girl.

Between scant information, limited phone time and insensitive staff, prison compounded a profound loss.