Daily Stormer The Most Censored Publication in History
Daily Stormer
March 6, 2015
This is such a surprising occurrence. How could this woman have possibly seen it coming?
I got into my car and headed to the daycare around 2:30 p.m. to get our children. On the way, I called the daycare and asked the administrator to get Jada and Jordan packed up because I was coming to get them early. I was surprised when she told me that my husband had already picked them up, a half hour earlier. (I had not disclosed to them that he had attempted suicide seven weeks prior.)
I called Kurtis’s cell phone, but he didn’t answer. I left him a voicemail: “Return the kids immediately or I will call the police.” I never heard back from him after that — but part of me thought maybe he took them to the park because it was a nice day.
At 6 p.m., with no word from Kurtis, I called the police. They didn’t get to my house until around 7 p.m., and didn’t seem to be overly concerned with my report. They said that they wouldn’t consider filing a missing person’s report unless they were gone for twenty-four hours.
Scared, I asked them to check my husband’s parents’ abandoned Ringwood, NJ home and his mother’s current residence in Bronx, NY. The Ringwood police department responded to the beautiful wooded property that is sprung with giant trees and stamped with huge rocks. (Jada loved to play outside there.) The 3-bedroom brick red sided home, with a deck and pool, was rundown and no one lived there, so it looked a little creepy from the outside. However, it was still full of furniture and a lifetime of things. This is where Kurtis found his grandfather’s 20-year-old rifle that he used to kill our children.
At approximately 7:30 p.m., neighbors near the Ringwood home got in touch with a friend of mine, who called me. She told me the Ringwood home was surrounded by cops, ambulances, crime scene tape and even a TV news crew.
I was frantic — my best friend Jody drove me over. On the 20-minute ride all I said was: He killed my kids. He killed my kids. He killed my kids. It was mayhem when we arrived.
“THOSE ARE MY CHILDREN,” I screamed. A police officer immediately escorted me into a CSI trailer and after a few minutes, asked for a photo of my children. I had a picture of them on my cell phone.
When the detective came back, he said: “I’m sorry to have to say this to you, but your children and husband are deceased.”
I laid my head in Jody’s lap and wept. I felt like I already knew, but hearing the words aloud made it a crashing, devastating reality. I called my mom in Oregon: “Mommy, he killed my babies. Mommy ….” (It was like I reverted back to a child.)
Shortly thereafter, I was put in an ambulance and taken to the hospital where a crisis team was waiting. On the ride, I felt delirious, in a dream, like nothing was happening in real time. I think my heart and soul were blown right open in that moment. At the hospital, they gave me something to help me sleep.
The best way to avoid having your Black kids murdered by your Black husband? Don’t marry a Black guy.
