Sketch of child found in Garfield Park Lagoon over Labor Day weekend. | Chicago Police Department.

Somebody knows! Somebody knows that a little child is missing and hasn’t been seen or heard from in a while. Somebody knows that a mother (especially) or father is now freer to come and go as they please because the child whom they are supposed to be caring for is not there.

I am sure the lies have been told: The baby is down south. The baby is staying with the grandparents. The little kid is over at his Big Mama’s house. Somebody knows the stories don’t add up. Somebody knows they should do some further investigating just to make sure. This is when “snitching” is the only option because keeping quiet is akin to having participated in, or be in agreement with, the carnage.

Someone knows that the artist’s rendition of the baby’s face sure looks like so-and-so’s kid. Or the picture looks like a cousin, uncle, nephew, brother, or son when they were that age. Somebody needs to do a check-in on all of their relatives with children using any reason they can think of just to make sure all the family members can be accounted for.

Of course people don’t want to think that somebody they know could take a baby, cut up its body parts like we do a whole chicken, and put it in a plastic bag with a 20-pound weight so days later when the gases build up inside the bag, the bag bursts and the remains float to the surface. It is a horrific image to imagine and even worse knowing it happened, though we don’t know for sure the mother did it — based on the weight found in the vicinity, 20 pounds is heavy for a female while it’s a piece of cake for a male.

Somebody knows that when what’s-her-name gave birth, she was ill-prepared to be a mother. Maybe there were anger issues — or just plain immaturity issues, topped off with stupidity.

Whatever the case, she had a baby and we’ve told ourselves it’s too late to do anything but deal with the situation. But you know she didn’t deal well. A cuss word here; a slap there. A beating delivered over soiled underpants because potty-training in reality isn’t the breeze some people claim it is. There was intolerance for the reality of motherhood because it’s not like the stuff she saw on TV.

Maybe you saw her dragging the kid down the street but didn’t say a word because it wasn’t your place to so do. Now two and two ain’t adding up, and warning bells should be going off like the smoke alarm does when you fry food.

Somebody knows the neighbor’s apartment is unusually quiet. The sound of a toddler’s heavy footsteps as he runs is no more. Somebody knows the television that used to blast cartoons now plays softly and it’s not cartoons anymore. Somebody notices the huge bags laundry are now smaller. Somebody knows the child they once babysat doesn’t need babysitting anymore. Somebody from the health clinic should have their memory jogged by the baby’s face. Somebody in the WIC office may be thinking they saw this face once.

The artist’s rendition of the baby’s face needs to be plastered all over the community. The sub-human being who killed, decapitated and tossed this baby’s body away like garbage surely qualifies for the harshest penalty possible and if I could, I would reinstitute the death penalty specifically for them! The police found two feet, two hands and the head. I want to be the first to publicly say “Bless You” and “Thank You” to the person who discovered the first bit of evidence and made that call to the police. You are a hero!

Somebody knows something and they need to speak up.


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