November 30, 2023

Today marks one year since my world shattered into a million irreparable pieces. The day a home invasion turned into a nightmare, leaving a void in my heart that will never heal. The day some worthless piece of shit heartlessly stole my baby brother over absolutely nothing. Today cements one year of anguish, one year of unanswered questions, and one year of unrelenting hatred for someone who ultimately means nothing, but whose actions changed everything.

Robert Louis Beathea, III: January 17, 1996 – October 2, 2022


Robert Louis Beathea, III is more than a statistic. He was a son. A father. A friend. He was MY friend. He was my BROTHER. And my brother–his dreams, his aspirations, his future–was MURDERED by someone who clearly isn’t worth the sperm and egg it took to make them. Their actions left a void in my family that will never be filled. The cowardice of their actions, combined withthe negligence of the authorities, is what’s keeping my family from getting justice on Robby’s behalf. 

As I just alluded to, my hatred doesn’t stop with the murderer. It extends to the very people whose entire job is centered on the AUTHORITY bestowed upon them by the city of Milwaukee, Wisconsin to DETECT who commits crimes on their watch. It extends to these “authorities” who have, in the past year, shown an alarming lack of interest and commitment to solving this case. To my knowledge, my family has heard nothing from Milwaukee police–not a phone call, follow-up. NOTHING. 

Imagine if this screenshot was the only thing documented about your brother’s murder:

I am disgusted by the indifference displayed by the very individuals we rely on for justice. Where is the dedication to solving this crime? The apathy and incompetence displayed by the very people we turn to for justice have been nothing short of infuriating. My brother’s life mattered, and it is the duty of the police to ensure that his death does not go unpunished. The deafening silence from Milwaukee’s police is a slap in the face to our family and to every victim of violence whose cries for justice have been ignored. It’s as if my brother’s Black life doesn’t matter to them, as if his death is just another statistic in a never-ending pile of unsolved cases.

A young me and a younger him…

To the killer, please understand that your entire existence is cursed. Those you touched are cursed; those who knowingly and willingly touch you are cursed. ANYONE who is helping you in ANY way is cursed. The layers of ain’t-shitness you are is astounding. You are pathetic, and you are a coward. Your mama should’ve swallowed you that night instead of contributing to your conception. In fact, your granny should’ve swallowed your mama, just to ensure that there was no chance of bringing you to fruition. 

You–this embarrassing excuse for skin and bone–do not deserve life, because you STOLE life. Just because you’re stuck in the darkness gives you absolutely no right to snuff out my brother’s light. Because Robby wasn’t perfect–we all have our flaws–but he was our light. And thanks to you, the sunniest day is nothing more than a candle in a dark room. For that, you will NEVER receive my forgiveness.

My brother’s memory will live on, not just in our hearts but in the collective voice of all those who demand justice. And one day, I hope that you, the killer, and the lazy, incompetent, apathetic Milwaukee authorities, will face the consequences of your actions and inactions. I will never stop fighting for justice. My hatred for you will only grow stronger with time, and I will do everything in my power to ensure that you are held accountable for your heinous crime. My brother deserves justice, and I will not rest until it is served.

Robby with his son.

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