I’m angry that Jesse is dead.
I’m angry that my family was forced into a reality we never chose.
I’m angry that my mom had to bury her son.
I’m angry that my brother lost his little brother.
I’m angry that my children will never know their Uncle Jesse except through stories and photographs.
I’m angry at the future that was stolen from all of us.
But there is another layer of anger that I rarely hear people talk about.
The anger that comes when a death wasn’t simply tragic.
The anger that comes when human choices were involved.
The anger that comes from believing things could have been different.
I am angry that Jesse didn’t simply die.
I am angry about how he died.
I am angry that decisions were made that night that can never be undone.
I am angry that my brother was struck by a vehicle and left behind.
I am angry that the person responsible left the scene instead of ensuring help was on the way.
I am angry that there were opportunities for people to help and those opportunities were missed.
I am angry that emergency services were not called immediately.
I am angry that my brother was left without the urgency and compassion that every human being deserves during a life-threatening emergency.
I am angry that there were people present who had the ability to make one simple phone call and didn’t.
I am angry that choices made over the course of minutes have impacted my family for the rest of our lives.
I am angry that people got to go home that night while my family began a nightmare that never truly ended.
I am angry that my family has spent years carrying the consequences of decisions we never made.
I am angry that accountability has never felt proportional to the loss.
I am angry that years later, we are still searching for closure that may never fully come.
That anger is different from grief.
It sits differently.
Because grief asks me to accept that Jesse is gone.
This anger asks me to live with the fact that what happened should never have happened in the first place.
I don’t know that I will ever stop being angry about that.
I don’t know that I should.
Because when I think about Jesse lying there needing help, I don’t feel anger because I am bitter.
I feel anger because I am human.
Because if someone I loved was dying, I would want every person there to act.
Immediately.
Without hesitation.
Without worrying about themselves first.
Without wondering who might get in trouble.
Without weighing the consequences.
I would want someone to call 911.
I would want someone to help.
I would want someone to care.
And I will spend the rest of my life wishing that had happened for Jesse.
The truth is, the anger never left.
People often assume that healing means becoming less angry.
That if enough time passes, the anger fades away and eventually disappears.
That hasn’t been my experience.
The anger is still here.
The difference is that I’ve learned how to carry it.
From Jesse’s Justice
No one should have to walk through grief alone.
Through free grief resources, advocacy, education, and community support, we strive to honor Jesse’s life by helping others navigate theirs.
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🖤♥️ For Jesse. For Justice.