My brother was one of the kind and cheerful souls who made the most of his time on this earth. He had a deep love for sports and could light any room with his energy and enthusiasm. Family meant everything to him — he cherished the time he spent with those he loved, always bringing laughter and warmth to every gathering. He also had a growing interest in restaurant management, dreaming of one day creating a place where people could come together and enjoy good food and even better company.
It’s been 50 years since my brother was taken from us, and not a day goes by that I don’t feel the weight of his absence. What makes it even harder is knowing his death was not natural — he was killed. His case remains an unsolved homicide, a cold case that has haunted our family for decades.
I often wonder how someone could take a life so cruelly and leave behind a grieving mother, broken siblings, and a family forever changed. I ask myself, how can someone live with themselves knowing they murdered my brother and left him like he didn’t matter? He did matter — he still does. How could someone take someone from their loved ones and carry that burden all these years?
We’ve lived all this time with pain, unanswered questions, and no justice. I hold onto hope that someday, somehow, this case will come to a conclusion. I just want peace. I just want closure, so that when my time on this earth comes to an end, I can go knowing the truth was finally told.
I carry my brother in my heart always. May he rest in peace
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