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Victim impact statement by Bette Clark

My name is Bette Clark and my son Timothy Clark was murdered on July 13, 2007. He was only 15 years old. It was a Friday the 13th. This past New Yearís Eve would have been his 19th birthday. This statement is to let you all know how this terrible act has done to not only myself but, my family, his friends, his neighbors and his community. A young child filled with dreams taken so young for no reason. The pain this has caused all of us is unimaginable so hard to even put into words. I want to tell you about Timmy, he was a good kid, he loved to play football, jump on the trampoline with his friends, he liked chess and playing the piano. He always dreamed of being a quarterback in his schoolís football team. Dreams he will never live to fulfill. He had told not only me, but many of his friends how he wanted to become a mechanic when he grew up, open up a shop with his friend and get married and have four kids of his own. How many teenage boys talk about having a family? I will never see those grandchildren. I will never see him grow up, learn how to drive, fall in love, get married. I can never see him outside throwing the football with his friends or help his neighbors in with their bags. Or play with the younger kids, tossing the football or playing street hockey. His brothers will never hear his goofy laugh or hear his silly jokes. They miss him so much, I see my boys too young to live in such pain like this and to know they have this pain to live with for so much longer than I. They try so hard to be strong for me, but I know deep inside the pain they endure. I see it in their eyes, they try so hard not to cry in front of me, but how could they not? Timmy was their baby brother, they looked out for him, they were his protectors, he loved them with all his heart as they love him with theirs. He loved hanging out with his brothers, it made him so happy just to hang around playing video games with them or even just listening to music. That made him feel so grown up hanging with his ďbigĒ brothers! He loved animals so much we once had a dog, 2 cats, a guinea pig and fish all at one time. He didnít hang on corners or walk the streets, he was a homebody. Heíd rather hang out at home play Xbox, listen to music, heíd work out with his brothers friends whoíd tease them because he could lift more than they could! He loved being with his favorite cousin Dawn, they were more like brother and sister then cousins, she even named her first born son Timothy, in his honor. He loved his friends so much that he had to have sleep overs every weekend, I once joked with him that he was 15 years old that he was too old to keep having sleep overs and he replied Iíll stop when I turn 16. Well, never in my life would I dream that he was right, but not by his own doing as he never lived to see his 16th birthday. I sit at home and I see his pictures and I cry and I ask why, God, why?? A question I know will never be answered and even if it were, I doubt the answer would be good enough to take away the pain I feel each and every day. I lock myself in the bathroom and cry so my other boys wonít see or hear me, I try to be strong for them but I know deep down that the pain is too deep. Some days I feel that Iím ďnormalĒ, but I know Iíll never be ďnormalĒ again, and then there are days that out of nowhere the pain is so unbearable that I fall apart in grief. For I miss my son, my baby, he was my baby boy and always will be. And he is gone and Iíll never see him again and thatís what hurts so much that Iíll never see my baby again. I wonít hear his laugh or his poking me in the arm trying to get my attention, or his creeky knee coming up the steps. Those little things you never think of until itís gone. I will never be the same, my family has been torn apart and a piece of each of our hearts has been ripped from us, never to return. Life for us will never be the same, life has become just getting thru the day, trying not to cry and pretending youíre ok, even when youíre not. Because deep inside me I feel this emptiness every second of every day and wait for the day that I lock myself in the bathroom and just fall apart. I pray each night and talk to my son and every night I cry, sometimes I canít even pray because I know Iíll just start crying again. I ask God to let my son be my guardian angel and watch over me and his brothers and that I will see him one day again. I keep asking God was he scared, did he know, was he in any pain, what were his last thoughts, did he know how much I love him. I can only pray that he did, because I can never tell him how much I love him and how much I miss him. I miss his smile, those big blue eyes, his shyness. He was my buddy, we went everywhere together, to the stores, to the mall, out to eat. I miss all his friends at the house, the noise, I never thought Iíd ever miss the noise, but the quietness just eats you alive. As I sit in my home that was once filled with friends and laughter I now sit in eery quiet and the pain the quiet brings can be deafening. I wish no mother would ever have to endure this pain as it is never ending. I miss Timmy so much, I just wish I could have him back, just one more hug, one more kiss, even just one more smile. This is my life now, a mother of a murdered child.


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