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Let me tell you, that is an all-day trip. I'm in the Bronx, and it took about two and a half hours on a good day. It's a job. But I went every weekend for three years.If he was in a facility in the Bronx, I could have went on a weekday, and that would have made him more at ease—instead of him having to wait for the weekend to see his mom. If he was closer, I could have been more of a support for him.
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Physically, he was here, but mentally, he was still in Rikers. The solitary confinement really messed him up. It made him very paranoid. He was terrified of ever having to go back to Rikers. He felt that people were police plants, trying to get him. He was afraid to trust anybody. He even told me one time, "I don't know if I can trust you." To show you how far his paranoia went, it got to the point where I couldn't watch certain TV channels because he said they were linked to the police, and if I had those channels on, they could see or hear anything going on in the house.He was angry all the time. He got in a verbal altercation with one of his brothers, and next thing you know, they started fighting. I was looking at Kalief, and a look came over him that wasn't Kalief. And it terrified me. And his brother had to go to the hospital because he threw him onto a glass table, and his brother cut his foot. Kalief later apologized and told me, "Ma, I don't know what happened, but I was back at Rikers, and I had to fight."
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He tried to show me one message, but I didn't see what he saw. I couldn't understand it, and I didn't want him to see me not believing him. And I was proud that he told me, but at the same time, it hurt that he was going through so much.What would justice for Kalief look like?
I want the city—and when I say city, I mean the NYPD, the courts, and Rikers—I want them to admit that they're the reason my son is dead. He never had any mental issues till he went to Rikers. These are people that take our kids. Sixteen is a kid. If Kalief were here, and I beat him and mistreated him, I'd be in jail for child abuse.
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It really surprised me, especially when President Obama opened his editorial about ending solitary confinement for juveniles with Kalief's story. I've met a lot of people, judges, politicians. I've even met Sandra Bland's mom. And out of all the people I met, she is the one that really understands my pain, because she lost her child. When we met, her hug really hit me. And I could not control my tears.I admire her because she goes out there and travels to different states to speak. Me, I speak here and there, but if it was up to me, I'd just stay in my room and be with Kalief, with his pictures and everything. I cry every day. Every day. He may have hung himself, but the strings were pulled by the system. They destroyed my family, and they definitely destroyed me. And I've lost faith in the judicial system, the police. Not all cops are bad, and not all COs are bad, but being that the bad ones destroyed my son, it's hard. It's a lot to deal with.I was going through his things after he died, and I came across a questionnaire he had to fill out for therapy or something. It said: "What do you do when you're angry? Who do you go to talk to?" And the first person he put was me. Do you know how I felt that he put me? I'm sorry (crying). He put me down first, and there was nothing I could do to stop him.And you know, I just miss my son so much. He was my youngest. He was my baby. I have to go out there and speak on his behalf. And I hope one day he will get the justice he deserves. They are waiting for this story to die and get swept under the rug. It's not going away because I'm not going to let it go away.This article was originally published by the Marshall Project, a nonprofit news organization that covers the US criminal justice system. Sign up for their newsletter, or follow the Marshall Project on Facebook or Twitter.