We gonna make it


Today, my cousin Dana told me she appreciates all that I’m doing & to do what I think is best in order to get Justice. It’s amazing though while grieving she wants others to feel ok. It meant so much to me to hear her say those words. At a time like this one does not know how to handle a parent, so we tiptoe around them, often times doing nothing or too much of something, not knowing how to balance exactly what to do.

I remember after Mel was murdered, I just wanted to lay down and not do nothing. Not take a bath, not answer the phone, not care for my kids, not eat, I just wanted to do nothing and they let me. I do not remember how I got to his funeral or where my kids were. I floated in this terrible pain after he was murdered.

Even after days, weeks, months and years went by I did nothing, but I felt so much. I honestly believe that I followed along with his mother. She like went away after he was killed, only coming out to attack the very people who loved her, but mostly me.

She made it clear that we were not to go to court, not to talk to the news anymore, she basically just wanted me, us to just go on with no Justice, but she wanted us to remember Mel and to hurt from his murder. We never sat as Dana and the family did and spoke of our feelings as a family, we didn’t plan how to help her through the mourning process or anything. She pulled away. I actually told Dana that I was scared that history would repeat itself, that once again someone I am very close to has suffered a tragic loss and I would be the one to get hurt. I wondered if she would break my heart as Mel’s Mom did, but she told me they are different, she will not hold in her feelings and she wants JUSTICE. That’s what I love about having a real relationship, its awesome when you can share everything with that person, even your fears and they will receive you with love. I thought I had that relationship with Mel’s Mom, but her door was never open to me like that after he was murdered.

After Mel was murdered I followed suit & remained silent, afraid to do anything because I didn’t want to hurt his mother. His death hardened and saddened me. I no longer trust had trust in people, especially after the witness recanted and the killer was never charge. I could have started an organization, pushed the detectives and the community, but I couldn’t. I spoke to his Mom about joining an organization, she never told me if she did or didn’t. It would have been nice to do things with her to celebrate and honor Mel’s death, but she rather do it alone.

In honoring her feelings left me not honoring mines. I do not feel like I did enough to raise awareness or even speak to others, not even his kids, well recently I spoke to his older daughter. She welcomed to hear my stories of her Daddy and that made me feel like I gave him a voice. A voice to let her know how much she means to him, how much he loved her. I will always be in my nieces & nephews lives, but I always felt as though just sending the kids a few dollars and visiting with them wasn’t enough. There’s NO enough for those left behind.

Mel and Brandon didn’t just suddenly die of an illness, they were MURDERED. A cruel person acted as if they were GOD and took their lives. It’s not fair. What did the MURDERER accomplish by KILLING them or anyone else? Let’s say someone was killed over beating someone up the day prior, then the person comes back and KILLS the winner, he is still the loser and the life he took died knowing he beat his azz. Like if you KILL someone who owes you money, you still owed the money. It just doesn’t make any sense. YOU MURDERER, KILLER, COWARD did not hurt the person whose life you took, you hurt us, the Mothers, Fathers, Grandparents, Sisters, Brothers, Children, Cousins and Friends, we are left with this unbearable pain.

I’m thankful to my cousin Dana, for allowing me to finally free my voice from a prison of silence justice. I’m thankful that God allowed her to be a part of my life at a young age and equipping her with the knowledge to assist in molding me into the woman I am now. My heart aches for Dana, but I know God knows that if anyone can stand strong and help other victims it’s her. She’s hurting, but she knows the road to justice is by having faith.

Please pray for her, please ask for comfort, strength, peace of mind, body and soul. It’s gonna, be hard, but as long as she is prayed up she can stay the course and fight a good fight for Justice.

I’m in the process of researching on how to start and organization with Dana being the spokesperson. I have our mission written up already as well as our name, Moms Against Murder Awareness, M.A.M.A

If you have any knowledge on how to start this, please help us, we really want to do this and will do it. If you would contact me or send me an email with tips, I would appreciate it.

Thanks for your time. Nola Chic


A native of New Orleans, who left her beloved New Orleans to spend twenty years of living in the land of Minnesota Not So Nice. Minnesota was full of opportunities but would learn that the soul of the state and the people who made it was just as icy cold as the temperatures. After the years and my 40th birthday flew by, I decided it was time to pack up my youngest child and come back to my roots, my birthplace the city that not only birthed me but gave me life. I would not be who I am without my New Orleans beginnings. I am all things that would challenge the belief of growing up in New Orleans. I was a 16yr old teen mother of a premature baby born with a severe medical disability. And only With the help of my mother, was it possible for me to BE! I was able to endure and survive the obstacles laid before my child and me. In a city that was built by my family, but did not allow for us to reap the benefits I overcame. Charity Hospital was my second home — a building filled with miracle workers who made it possible for my daughter to have life. I have lived a life of rainy days with peeks of sunshine, that are my children, including those not of my womb. I'm the proud mother of three and a grandmother of three. My dream was to live the life of the nursery rhyme of ”The Old Lady Who lived in a shoe,” and for the most part, I did. I cared for several children over the years as a special needs foster parent. I would learn that my love was not enough for some children, but I loved them through their pain. I'm not sure if I ever had a case of true love or came close to what love looks like on television, but I had my share of men and the mirage of love. I survived two abusive marriages. Though I longed to return to New Orleans on a daily bases, I must admit my move was one of the best decisions made for me. I am a college graduate; I was a successful entrepreneur. I coowned a soul food restaurant and catering company in Minnesota for 12 years. I developed the talent of creating custom cakes after the murder of my beloved cousin Melvin Paul. He survived Katrina only to go to Minneapolis six months later to be murdered over a parking spot dispute. But with the challenge of creating a simple wedding cake, I was able to find healing. I created the House of Cakes in honor of him. Minnesota life had me pretty materialistic. I worked to the point I do not remember much, but work and handing my children love money. I thought by having the big house on the hill, a husband, having a family, the ultimate provider and being involved in all things that matter, plus having the funds to match would cure me of what I was told was a generational curse of lack of everything from money, love to even self-love. But for the most part, that life poisoned my heart and soul. I was blinded by visions fed to me by the media. I was told I wasn't anything unless I was better than the Jones's. I lived being ok with a broken, bleeding heart. Life like this did not exist in my family while living in New Orleans from what I viewed with my eyes and soul. We may not have had all the things I acquired over the years, but we were happy, we were together. Family outside of New Orleans wasn't family anymore. We lived separate lives and had awkward moments when we bumped into each other in public. I hated living in Minnesota even though life their helped me in so many ways. I felt deep down the only way to repair it was to get back to my roots, my soul, my home, myself, my New Orleans. I'm here, and I love it. Even being in the so-called Blighted Area of New Orleans and not having all the financial and material security, I'm happy. I am determined that She, yes, New Orleans is a woman is just like me; together, we will overcome and will rise from all that tried to kill our spirit. Nothing like starting from the bottom and making your way back up!. I just know in my heart that New Orleans will provide for me. There's a bank account with funds in it owed to me by way of back pay for my ancestors. And I will receive my inheritance, and I will continue the traditions and customs of the old to keep the heartbeat of New Orleans beating. I'm down in the boot, living the life that feels right to me awaiting my destiny...

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