This is my mother, captured in a photo taken a couple of years before Aunt Rosetta’s murder. All my aunts were stunning in their day. Rosetta had a demure beauty, while my mother exuded an Eartha Kitt-like allure. It’s often said that they were so striking that drivers would veer off the road to catch a glimpse.

For some women, beauty can open doors, but for others, it can be a curse. People often ask why I’m so invested in this case, given that I didn’t even know Rosetta—she was taken from us 13 years before I was born.

The answer is my mother. She and I were incredibly close; she passed just six days after my 16th birthday, at only 45. I believe her early death was influenced by the trauma and fallout of Rosetta’s murder—a truth I can support with documentation.

Rosetta and I are forever connected through my mother’s love and pain. Sadly, not everyone in our family fully understands the importance of learning what happened to her or the impact it had on us. That’s their choice. My choice is to seek the truth and honor her dignity.

Through this project, I’ve uncovered many injustices Rosetta suffered. Some are so deeply troubling that they wake me from sleep, the anger raw and unshakable. I’ll share more of these findings in my book, where I can give Rosetta’s story the voice and respect it deserves.

To those who stand with me, who share, read, and encourage my journey—thank you. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said, “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” Rosetta’s story deserves to be heard, and with your support, it will be remembered by the ages.