How can you bear it, you who have stolen the life and innocence of eight-year-old Danielle Rowe?

How can you sleep, knowing the terror you’ve inflicted? You, who have become a spectre of fear, a bringer of sorrow, a wielder of the cruellest blade. You have extinguished the light of a child, a being of pure innocence and boundless potential. Who are you, hidden in the shadows? Where has your humanity fled? What has become of your conscience that you could inflict such a monstrous act? How can your soul bear the weight of the life you’ve stolen?

The echoes of your deeds will not be silenced. They will reverberate in the hollowness you’ve left behind, a constant reminder of the life that once was. The cries of the innocent will not be forgotten, and justice will not be blind. May the torment of your deeds haunt your waking hours and invade your dreams. May the face of innocence be a constant reminder of the life you’ve stolen. Until the day you surrender, are captured, or meet your own demise, may you find no peace. For God is not asleep, and judgement waits patiently at your door.

How could you shatter the hearts of Danielle’s family, her friends, and an entire nation that mourns her loss? It’s a painful truth, but we’ve walked this path of collective grief before. We’ve felt the sting of outrage, the burn of disgust, and the heat of anger only to let the passage of time dull our resolve and return us to our routines.

But we must confront the harsh reality. Have we, as a society, failed our children? Have we let them down, failing to shield their innocence from the harsh realities of a violent nation? Have we neglected to safeguard their vulnerabilities, leaving them exposed to unimaginable harm? Have we jeopardised their future, allowing their potential to be snuffed out prematurely? Have we stood by while their lives are stolen from them?

That’s what we did to Danielle Rowe, Gabriel King, Shanika Anderson, Yetanya Francis, Santoya Campbell, Crystal Coleman, Shariefa Saddler, Kimanda Smith, Shari-Lee Smith, Rafaella Smith, Kishaun Henry, and many others. Their names are not forgotten. Their lives mattered. They were our hope, our future, the promise of better days.

We must do better

Jamaica, our beloved island, a land of beauty and culture, is failing its most precious treasure – our children. The very ones who hold the keys to our future are being robbed of their innocence, their joy, and their lives. This is a reality we can no longer afford to ignore. Our children are our hope, our promise for a brighter tomorrow.

Children’s lives matter. This is not just a slogan; it is a plea, a demand, a rallying cry. It is a stark reminder of the value of our children’s lives and the urgent need to protect them. The church, traditionally a sanctuary and a beacon of moral guidance, has a crucial role to play in this crisis. It is a call to action for the church to rise to its calling, to be the voice of the voiceless, and to provide a safe haven for our children.

Parents, caregivers, neighbours, we all have a role to play. We must be vigilant, we must be supportive, and above all, we must be protective. We must allow and encourage the church to fulfil its role in safeguarding our children.

Communities, too, must rally around their children. It takes a village to raise a child, and it takes a community to protect one. We must stand with our churches, our schools, our community leaders, and our Government to ensure the safety of our children.

We are at a constitutional crossroads as a nation. Let us not transition to a soulless republic. The path we choose now will determine the future of our children and, by extension, the future of our nation. Let us choose the path of action, the path of compassion, the path of protection. For our children’s lives matter, and it is up to us to affirm that through our actions. Only then can we reclaim the soul of our nation.

I apologise

To the parents of the late Danielle Rowe, and to all the families who have endured the unimaginable pain of losing a child to violence, I write to you with a heavy heart, burdened by the sorrow of your loss and the shared grief of a nation. I am deeply sorry for the pain you are enduring. As a member of this society, I apologise for our collective failure to protect Danielle and all the children who have fallen victim to violence.

Danielle, an innocent child of only eight years, should have been safe, cherished, and nurtured. Her life was a precious gift, one that should have been allowed to flourish in the safety of our community. The fact that we, as a society, could not shield her from harm is a failing that weighs heavily on our hearts. To all the families who have suffered similar losses, I extend my deepest condolences. Your pain is our pain. Your loss is our loss. We mourn with you, and we share in the outrage and despair that such acts of violence could occur in our society.

We owe it to Danielle, to all the children we’ve lost, and to you, their families, to do better. We must work together to create a society where every child is safe, every child is valued, and every child’s life truly matters. Please accept this apology on behalf of myself, my family, and our nation. We stand with you in your grief, and we pledge to honour the memory of your children by working tirelessly to protect the children of our nation.

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort who comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.” (2 Corinthians 1:3-4)

Henry Lewis Jr is a PhD candidate, a social scientist, and an executive life coach. He lectures at University of Technology, Jamaica, in the School of Humanities and Social Sciences. Send comments to the Jamaica Observer or hjlewis@utech.edu.jm.