Two weeks ago, the press gave a lot of attention to Sherry Murphy, a middle-aged go-go dancer in Newark, NJ who was starving three of her young nephews in her basement, one of whom died before being rescued. While I feel the same shock and grief that most everyone feels for Faheem, the boy who died, and for his brothers Raheem and Tyrone, who will live, I’ve been noticing some adjacent tragedies in the stories of the other characters in the case. One of them is Fuquan Williams, the 11-year old brother of the victims, who was no longer living with his aunt; another is Wesley Thomas, the 16 year old son of Murphy, who recently told authorities about his involvement in the death of Faheem (he claims to have unintentionally knocked Faheem out while wrestling with him, from which the 7-year old never recovered).
Both Fuquan and Wesley experienced the same pattern of neglect and abuse that eventually killed Faheem: parents and guardians with criminal records and substance abuse habits, inadequate attention, physical and mental abuse from family and visitors, lack of health care, shuffled frequently between various relatives and caretakers, fathers either unknown (in Fuquan’s case) or infamously known (a registered sex offender, in Wesley’s case), intermittent schooling at best, and a broken-down child protection agency that prematurely closed their case. In sum, a highly chaotic nightmare for an adult, hell to a child (recall the Pat Benatar song, Hell is For Children).
Unfortunately, this is a story of urban poverty, even if Sherry Murphy and her cousin (Melissa Williams, the fugitive mother of the children) did hold jobs and lived in relatively pleasant surroundings (they were not welfare queens living in the projects). They were people that could have made it in the working world, but some sort of psychological and emotional instability, the kind too often found amidst the inner-city poor (and many other groups, of course), infected their lives and found its way to their children. This is the cycle of poverty hard at work, reaching even those who seemingly have the resources to escape it — although one must admit, the aunt and the mother were not simply innocent victims of forces beyond their control. They must stand accountable for what happened. They are not poster-children for the urban poor, most of whom are honest, hard-working and conscientious caregivers; nevertheless, this is a repetitious social infection that is still too common in the city. And the results are young criminals in the making.
Wesley has already graduated; at age 16, he has a police record involving weapons and drugs, and now faces assault charges regarding Faheem. (And yes, he is a parent). As to 11 year old Fuquan, his life could go either way. Not surprisingly, he has severe emotional and learning problems, and exhibits angry and erratic behavior. However, he is now in the legal custody of a seemingly stable, regularly employed uncle who has him enrolled in a special institution. With enough stability and guidance, and in the company of a male role model, Fuquan might have a chance to pull himself out. But then again, most of the special programs for troubled youth like him tend to “graduate” their participants at age 16, due to limited resources. Fuquan may not be ready at age 16 to face the world, even with his uncle’s well-intended help. He may never be able to go back to a regular high school, and would probably have little chance of succeeding in the typical “non-professional” career tracks of today, which require either technical acumen (e.g., an office equipment repairman) or a flair for customer relations (e.g., a bank teller). The call of the gangs and the streets may be too much for him. Along with Wesley, Fuquan may be another Native Son. Another American tragedy slowly unfolding itself in the city.