For the Sake of Jo'el: A Father’s Story

By Robert Steven Palmer

This is a true story of a deadly search for truth and justice in the obvious murder of his son and a botched police investigation that evolved into an apparent police cover-up. A father puts his life on the line, risking possible death from the gang in his quest for fairness! This is the story of murder and street justice that could be sanctioned by the police, or so it seems! Testimony from medical experts as to the manner of death are given, supported by authentic autopsy reports and police and witnesses reports. This book is a must read!

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jan 18, 2019
• ISBN: 9781532066627

Robert Steven Palmer

Writing about my life and the death of my child has been a kind of therapy session for me. I pray that some reader of my story takes an interest in the unusual circumstances surrounding my son’s obvious murder. Maybe just wishful thinking on my part, but I would like to see some sympathetic skilled attorney take an interest in this matter. My story probably will not be well received in the black community because in my story, a story coming from a black man, the bad guys are majority black. Some will call me a sellout and an Uncle Tom, not knowing the true story behind Uncle Tom’s cabin! Others will tag me as a snitch. I stand firmly behind my sentiments, and they will not waiver. As long as we sit by, intimidated and silent, we will continue to live in constant danger. Police oversight and accountability is a necessity. Parents will have to do better in child-rearing. Black men will have to take to the streets and take an active role in diligently policing their children and their communities. Neighborhood watch associations in conjunction with police participation is a must. But in order to be effective, there has to be some informing, since criminal activities usually occur outside the presence of police. Snitching is the only way, and it will take more than just one person doing the snitching. In the case of my son, I find it difficult to accept the thought of the killers getting away with murder. By myself, I feel sometimes I have no way of winning alone. I pray that you, the readers of my story, make a loud noise, a cry for what is right and just! I pray the masses rise up in a roaring cry, a demand for justice. I pray they do this for the sake of my child, my son! I pray they demand justice for the sake of Jo’el. That is my story as of this day, but it is always and forever changing. There is no statute of limitation for murder, and likewise, there is no limitation on what this father will endure for the sake of Jo’el! The End

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Copyright © 2019 Robert Steven Palmer.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-6663-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-6662-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019900562

iUniverse rev. date: 01/17/2019

Table of Contents

Chapters

1. In the Beginning

2. School Days

3. My Little Girl

4. Black Exploitation

5. Army Life (Europe)

6. The Last Day

7. Autopsy Explained

8. Where Are the Gangs?

9. Danny’s Homecoming

10. Death Wish 2017

11. Who’s Shooting Who? Who Wants to Know?

12. Where’s My Friendly Cop?

13. Up, Up, and Away?

14. The Road to Hampton and Leave the Driving to Us?

15. All Aboard!

16. Welcome to Hampton Va. – Hello, Hello!

17. Crime in the United States

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This Book Is Dedicated to the Memory of My Son Jo’el Nashon Patterson-Jordan and, Also Dedicated to all Survivors Who Have Lost Love Ones Do to Violence That Was Ruled Justifiable Homicides, Under Stand Your Ground Self Defense Laws. May My Story Inspire All Who Read Its Contents to Stand Up for Justice And Stand Against Injustice, Corruption And Incompetence of Law Enforcement Authorities and the Criminal Justice System.

I Have Tried to Recreate Events, Locales, and Conversations, From My Memories. So, to Maintain the Anonymity of Some of the Characters, in Some Instances, I Have Changed the Names of Individuals and Places. I May Have Changed Some Identifying Characteristics and Details Such as Physical Properties, Occupations, and Places of Residence. Some Names and Identifying Details Have Been Changed to Protect the Privacy of Individuals. A Public Official or Any Other Person Pervasively Involved in Public Affairs, or a Limited Purpose Public Figure, Those, Who Have Thrust Themselves to the Forefront of Particular Public Controversies in Order to Influence the Resolution of the Issues. Public Figures Are Open to Criticism, However Unnecessary Criticism, Can Sometimes, Be Damaging. The Author Has Elected Not to Venture Down That Avenue of Telling This Story. My Book Is Not Concerned with Harming Anyone, It Is About Exposing the Rush to Judgment in an Investigation Involving the Shooting and Killing of My Son, Jo’el, and the Justification of That Killing, Under Stand Your Ground Self Defense Laws.

CHAPTER ONE

In the Beginning

Born May 1, 1955, Delivered Out of My Mother’ Womb, on a Sunday Morning in the Basement of City General Hospital. The Basement of the Hospital Was the Designated Portion Set-Aside for Colored People.

Born 90 Years After the End of Slavery in This Country, I Grew Up in an Incorporated Area, Population Approximately 38,000 Citizens. My Home Town Is Situated North of Alabama’s I- 20/59 Corridor. The 50’s and 60’s Was the Jim Crow Era All Over the South. My Book Is Not Intended to Provoke Anger or Racial Divide. The Illustrations of Events Were Only Put Forth as a Means of Showing Where I Came, and How I Arrived in My Present State.

This Was an era of Open Public, Displays of Hatred Towards Blacks. An Era of Violence, and Political Unrest, Assassinations of Our Leaders, Like Malcolm X, John Kennedy, Robert Kennedy, the Freedom Riders in Philadelphia Mississippi and of Course Martin Luther King Jr.

I Can Recall the Day the Fire Hydrants and Police Dogs Were Loosed on Crowds of Peaceful Nonviolent Protesters on the Streets of Birmingham Alabama. Only 8 Years Old at the Time, Those Images and Emotions Were Engraved Into my Mind. It Has Become a Part of Who I am, an Undeniable and Inseparable Part of my Being. The Bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham Alabama. Other Negro Churches Burned, Throughout the State of Mississippi, Serve as Mere Hints of the Hatred Manifested in the Everyday Lives of African-Americans, During Those Times. Remembering Another Event That Occurred When I was 7 Years Old, My Brother and I, Were Sent by My Mother to a Local Vegetable Market to Purchase Some Items for Dinner. As We Exited the Market We Noticed a Carload of Young White Kids Sitting in a Parked Car in the Parking Lot.

As We Passed the Car Someone from the Car Yelled, Niggers , and at That Moment Someone in the Car Spat in My Face as We Were Passing By. Yep, Right Down the Side of My Face, Running Downward to My Neck! I Got Mad, So Mad in Fact, My Brother Had to Nearly Drag Me All the Way Home. I Really Wanted to Fight Everyone in That Car That Day.

It Is My Belief That One Must Be Intellectually Honest, Within, One’s Self to Be a Reliable, Dependable and Unquestionable Source of Information. The Veracity of Character and Words Are Indeed the Essence of an Honest and Decent Human Being. That is My Opinion. Another Incident Involved My Brother and I on the Railroad Tracks Going to My Maternal Grandmother’s House. My Brother, 10 Years Old and I, 8 Years Old. I Often Thought I Would Catch up, With him in Age. You See, He Was Born July and I Was Born in May, but Once Every Year There Would Be Only a Year’s Difference in Our Ages, so I Thought. Every May, I Would Be Only One Year Away, From Catching Up, With His Age. Then the One-Year Difference Would Disappear in July. This Was a Dirty Trick to Play on an Otherwise Smart Kid.

Okay, so We Were on the Train Track Going to My Grandmother’s House When Gunshots Rang Out. Gravel on the Track Began Popping Like Popcorn Around Our Feet, From the Bullets., Other Than Skinned Knees. We Had to Crawl on Our Hands, Knees and Bellies the Rest of the Way Down the Track to Second Avenue. We Lived in the Housing Projects on 8th Avenue. Six Blocks on Hands and Scraped Knees, We Crawled Down the Hot Railroad Tracks. All the Time Looking for Trains and White Men with Guns. Physically, We Were Alright, but Psychologically and Emotionally, We Were Both Nervous Wrecks! Again, for My Story to Be Believable, Honesty Is Vital. This Is Not to Say That All White People Hated or Disliked Black People, but There Were Those Who Did.

I Can Never Forget the Freedom Riders, of 1961, Two White Students and One Black Student Killed, in Mississippi, While There Protesting the Harsh Jim Crow Laws Imposed by Racist Politicians. As for Dr. King’s Dream, It Has Become a Nightmare. The Dream I Feel, Was Misinterpreted by a Lot of Black People. Complacency Seems to Be the Attitude of Most of My People. They Feel Satisfied, with the Progress That Has Been Attained so Far. So, the Need to Do More Regarding Equality and Basic Human Rights and Equal Justice Has Almost Disappeared from Any So-Called Black Agenda. Simply Put, There, Is No Real Agenda at All. What Unity There Was Back During the Civil Rights Era Has Become Almost Nonexistent. Yes, if Dr. King Were Alive Today, He Would Be Very Disappointed, with the Apparent Stagnation in Social Advancement and the Absence of Zeal It Takes to Accomplish an Agenda, or Anyone Today Capable of Even Setting an Agenda for Black People in the United States.

Complacency Has Taken a Hold on the Black Community, Like a Vice. Our Streets Have Become Battlefields, While, Our Babies and Elderly Have Become Prisoners and Hostages in an Undeclared War. My Story Is About One of Those Wars, I Got Caught Up in Trying to Do the Right Thing. Doing a Right Thing All Alone Can Be Dangerous Sometimes, When the Right Thing to Do Affects the Wrong People. Wrong People, As in People Who Are Above the Law.

When Fear Controls Reasoning and Actions, the People Suffer and There Goes the Neighborhood. When I Set Out on My Quest for the Truth in the Killing of Jo’el, I Lost a Lot of So-Called Family. Not Everyone, Is Capable, of Withstanding the Risks of Danger and Even Death! My Journey in Life Has Brought Me Many Times to the Brink of Death, but I Survived. Yes, I Tiptoed Around the Edges of Doom and Self-destruction!

Gun Play is Serious Business, and Not Everyone is Suited for the Challenge. Carrying a Gun is a Great Responsibility. It Requires Intelligence to Appreciate the Possible Outcomes That Comes from Its Use.

It Would Scare Hell Out of Most People if They Knew How Many Young Thugs Carry Guns! It Would Amaze You, Also, if I Told You That There Are Many Killers Walking Around You daily, Especially in My Hometown. That’s Right, Killers Who Will Kill Again. The Saddest Part About This Truth Is Nobody Says a Word About It to the People Who Matter, the Police.

The Image of the Guns Was Taken Off the Facebook Page of a Self-Proclaimed Gang Boss with Police Connections!

African-American Males Mostly, in Their Very Own Neighborhoods Robbing, Stealing and Killing All for the Sake of a Little Money and a Reputation as Being Tough, a Killer Gangster. They Kill Friends and Family Alike in This War Against Self. At the Present Rate of Incarceration in About Ten Years Nearly One-Fourth of Black Males in This Country Will Either Be in Prison or They Will Have Felony Records. Some Will Become the Victims of Black on Black Homicides, While Some Will Fall Victims to Police Bullets. We Bare the Soul Responsibility of Our Self- Hate Trend Impacting Our Communities. Black Males Are Being Led Down a Path to Self- Destruction by Other Black Males. Long Gone Are the Concerns for the Betterment of the Black Race. Love for Community and Pride in Where We Live, Has Long Since Died! When Nothing Is Done in Our Neighborhoods to Curtail Violence and Crime. It Makes for an Unsafe Living Environment, Especially for Our Children.

We Can’t Expect, or, All the Time Trust the Police to Protect Us. They Can’t Be by Our Side 24 Hours a Day! Honestly, Some of Them You Wouldn’t Want by Your Side for One Minute of the Day! A Resounding Collective Responsibility Rests on the Shoulders of Us All to Ensure Safe Communities, Schools, and Cities for the Sake of Our Own and the Rest of Society. I Would Have to Say the Responsibility Rests on the Shoulders of the Citizen, Law Enforcement, the Judicial System, Corrections and the Church.

As for Me, I Guess I’m as Much Responsible as All of You. It Took the Loss of My 30 Year- Old Son, Jo’el, a Victim of Homicide. Considering the Fact, He Wasn’t the First Homicide Victim This Family Has Had to Endure. My Brother Was Robbed and Killed While Working the Midnight Shift Alone at a Gas Station in Birmingham, in 1997. He Was Shot Twice, Once, in the Chin and Struck by a Second Round That Bounced Off a Countertop to a Floor Safe, and Then Entered His Heart, Killing him Instantly. He Was Only 43 Years Old When He Was Murdered by a Young Black Man. A Man Who Is Now Serving a Life Sentence without the Possibility of Parole. The Jury Rendered a Verdict of Guilty and Recommended the Death Penalty. I Went Before the Jury and Asked Them to Spare his Life, and They did. The Presiding Judge Allowed My Pleading. This, However, Made a Lot of Friends and Family Very Angry! My Intention Was to Allow Him to Live a Lifetime with the Memory of That Killing Just Like Me! Since I will Be Spending the Rest of My Life with That Memory, It Is Only Fair and Right He Do the Same.

In 2001, My Cousin, Was Shot and Killed, as He Stood in the Living Room of Our Grandmother’s House, by Someone Blindly Shooting Through the Closed Door. The Shooter/Shooters, Approached the Front Door, Knocked and Waited for Him to Answer the Door. Seeing the Apparent Danger, Lucky, as We Called Him Because Until That Day He Had Been Extremely Lucky in Life. As he Turned Away from the Closed Doors, Someone Shot Three Times Through the Security and Interior Doors. One Shot Hit Him in the Back. Although Everyone Including the City Police Department, Knew Who, the Killer/Killers Were, No One Was Arrested. I Would Call It a Coincidence, but I Do Not Believe in Them. His killing Was Also Gang Related. The Word on the Street Was, It Was Supposed to Be a Robbery, It Went Bad When a Hot Head Got Trigger Happy and Decided to Do Some Shooting. Although He Couldn’t See His Target, He Shot Anyway! He Didn’t Wait for the Door to Open. With Total Disregard for the Lives of Anyone Else Inside the Residence, He Recklessly Fired, Into the House. This Case Remains Unsolved, Mainly Because No One Has done Anything to Motivate the Police to Solve It.

If it’s the Squeaky Wheel That Get the Grease, Then You Must Make Some Noise. The Police Have No Reason to Be Concerned if No One is Interested. Police Tend to Take Things Such as This, Into Consideration When Working Such Cases, as Homicides. Later in My Story, You Will Read About, How People, Who Professes to Be So Hurt Over the Loss of This Child, Have No Compassion, and No Desire to Provide Closure for Another Family’s Loss. I Love All My Children, but I Would Never Give Them a Gun and Tell Them to Go Out in the Streets and Kill Your Enemies! I’ve Heard it Out of the Mouth of Fully, Grown Adults. Some Parents Should Be Required by Law to Obtain a License to Have a Child or Given an Examination to Determine Psychological Fitness to Be Parents.

Back in 1964, My Paternal Aunt, Annie Pearl, Was Found Murdered and Sexually Assaulted, She Was Found, with an Empty Whiskey Bottle, Rammed, Into Her Vagina. That’s One Family Member the Family Never Mentions, but I Keep Her Memory Alive.

Another Young Cousin, 21 Years Old, Robbed and Executed in His Apartment. He Was Found, with His Hands Bound Behind His Back by Duct Tape, Blindfolded, Gagged and Shot Once in the Back of the Head While Sitting in the Bathtub. His Murder Also Remains Unsolved.

Yes, It Took All of This to Awaken Me to the Factual Realization, That, It Is Up to Us, Black, White, Red, and Yellow, to Eradicate This Epidemic That’s Destroying Our Families, Schools, Communities and Cities. No Longer Can We Afford the Luxury of Fright and Flight. Crime Tends to Follow You, Wherever You Go and There Is No Escaping It. It Is in Your Worst Neighborhoods and It Is in Your Best Neighborhoods. We Move, Away from Crime but It Always Manages to Follow Us.

All These Things I Knew Long Before That Awful Day. That Very Hot and Hurtful April Afternoon. Who Could Have Seen the Sadness Coming? For the First Time in My Life I Felt Helpless as a Newborn Child. I Didn’t Know What to Do or Say. My heart Pounded, and I Cried Just Like a Little Baby Who Had Lost His Favorite Toy or Had His Candy Abruptly Taken Away.