On June 20, I attended a ceremony to commemorate the one-year anniversary of the murders of Javad Marshall-Fields and Vivian Wolfe. It was also a celebration of the friendship that’s grown out of the arid terrain of their mothers’ sorrow and loss. For some, a loss of this magnitude might have acted as a repellent, but for Rhonda Fields and Christine Wolfe, loss seems to be the glue making the bond between them unbreakable, a result of love for their children and each other.
It was a sad occasion, made worse by the knowledge that Javad, who was to be the key witness in a murder trial, might still be alive had he and his fiancée received police protection. Three young men were indicted by an Arapahoe County grand jury for killing Wolfe and Javad, who was scheduled to give evidence about a July 4, 2004, killing of another man. Their mothers have had to watch the accused men in court.
I’ve admired Rhonda Fields and Christine Wolfe’s energy, courage and indefatigable efforts to remind us of their children by pricking the public’s conscience lest the plight of many unprotected witnesses be forgotten.
I wonder about what goes wrong with young black men in America who seem hell-bent to destroy themselves and each other. It’s oft-repeated, everywhere and every day in America. Last week in a Denver court, a Montbello youth was convicted of stabbing another to death in the high school cafeteria. There’s some weakness in our youth that allows their rage to boil at the least provocation. Hate, anger and murder lie close to the surface, ready to be released.
I raised sons, and had my own fears about the ever-present danger for them and their black friends. You can raise your child to the highest ideals and still he might fall victim to others who are lost in the miasma of hopelessness.
Most of the violence by young black men is directed at others like them, fighting to survive in a world of gangs, warped values, a complex territorial war and a dance of aggression, rejection and acceptance. Lives of profound hopelessness, drunk on an excess of testosterone and fortified with guns, are perfect recipes for a world of anarchy.
Depression and other mental illnesses were easily spotted among my son’s black friends and schoolmates. Lacking in many of their lives were father figures, someone to teach them life’s hard lessons, such as how to swallow one’s pride, the grace of patience and the miracle of forgiveness.
When 70 percent of black children today are born to single mothers, (many children from multiple fathers) and 40 percent live below the poverty line, the majority grows up poor, angry, hopeless and traumatized by the streets. These children need love, respect and extensive therapy. Their traumatized minds suffer from post-traumatic disorders – they are little soldiers who have spent too much time in the street’s wars.
One thing that Javad and Vivian seem to have had in abundance was love from their parents, the very thing that’s lacking in many black boys’ lives.
I do not know the men accused of murdering Javad and Vivian, and I am not excusing their murderous rampage. The guilty must pay for their sins. I do, however, think there’s much we can do to improve poor children’s lives. The least we can do is reduce the number of fatherless boys, mentor them and encourage the postponement of child-bearing in our girls. The problem of fatherless children deserves more attention from us all than it has gotten so far.
Until we confront the root cause of the pathology of black boys, we will always be amazed by the viciousness of their criminal acts.
Sadly, nothing will ever diminish the sadness and anguish Rhonda Fields and Christine Wolfe must live with for the rest of their days.
Pius Kamau of Aurora is a thoracic and general surgeon. He was born and raised in Kenya and immigrated to the U.S. in 1971. His column appears on alternate Thursdays.
