BETTY, WHAT HAPPENED?

BETTY, WHAT HAPPENED?

PHILLIP BROWN

The ConTextos Authors Circle was developed in collaboration with young people who are at risk of, victims of or perpetrators of violence in El Salvador. In 2017, this innovative program expanded into Chicago to create tangible, high-quality opportunities that nourish the minds, expand the voices and share the personal truths of individuals who have long been underserved and underestimated. Through the process of drafting, revising and publishing memoirs, participants develop self-reflection, critical thinking, camaraderie and positive selfprojection to author new life narratives.

Since January 2017, ConTextos has collaborated with the Cook County Sheriff's Office to implement Authors Circle in Division X of Cook County Department of Corrections as part of a vision for reform that recognizes the value of mental health, rehabilitation and reflection. These powerful memoirs complicate the narrative about violence and peace-building, and help author a hopeful future for these men, their families, and our collective communities.

While each memoir's text is solely the work of the Author, the images used to create this book's illustrations have been sourced from various print publications. Authors curate these images and then, using only their hands, manipulate the images through tearing, folding, layering, and careful positioning. By applying these collage techniques, Authors transform their written memoirs into fully illustrated books.

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BETTY, WHAT HAPPENED? Phillip Brown

It was January 4, 2008 on the Westside of Chicago, on a cold winter evening. I was returning home from off Madison & Pulaski buying shoes for back to school. When I made it home, as I entered the house my dad yelled, “They just found Betty on Chicago Avenue and Ridgeway. Someone beat her up real bad and they don’t know if she dead or not.” I instantly dropped my bag on the floor, broke down in tears, and yelled, “Let’s go find her!”

Now let’s rewind to earlier that day where it was all smiles not knowing that hours later it would be the worst day of my life to remember. On the morning of January 4, 2008 on the Westside of Chicago in the house where my mom lived, which was located on Krystal and Karlov.

I woke up on a single mattress on the living room floor that my Dad laid down for me, my little sister, brother, nieces, and nephews and family friend s that had come over the previous day and spent the night over. It was cold and temp eratures were below zero outside, but all of us jam packed in a 2 bedroom apart ment made it warm and fun so the cold didn’t faze us as much. We all played with each other, ate food, built tents, and all took turns playing the Nintendo game cube. When I woke up, I had one thing on my mind and that was to go get my shoes for back to school after winter break.

As I got up I started to look for my mom who had left out the house that previous night at about 8-9 o’clock pm. I always used to follow my mom everywhere she went because I was a big momma’s boy. Also when I follow her she didn’t stay out for days at a time because I will always be on her back begging her to come in the crib. So on this particular night, she left out, nothing was different. I was on her ass like flies on shit. I waited until she got downstairs than I ran behind her. As I walk up behind her she tells me, “Boy go your ass back upstairs with your nieces and nephews. How the hell you gone leave them and they came over here for you?”

I never used to listen to my Mom when she tells me to stop following her because I knew that she would be just trying to get rid of me to leave and go with her friends. For some reason on this night I listen to her and I still regret I did right now until this day. So I thought to myself, “Damn, she right. Let me go back in the crib.” My mom was 46 years old, born September 5, 1960. She was dark skinned, about 5’6 or 5’7, grey hair cut low, real nappy, heavy built, big thighs, bow legged and always wore a headscarf and jogging pants no matter the occasion. She had 8 of us 4 Boys and 4 Girls and 5 Grandkids at the time.

When I woke up, I asked my dad, who was in the nearby room reading his daily SunTimes newspaper and eating pork skins, that were usually hot or bbq, and sunflower seeds, that were usually original or cheese, “Where my momma at?” He replied, “Betty ain’t never come in last night.” I said, “Aw, okay” and left it alone because my momma always left the house for days at a time to smoke drugs and get a peace of mind. I guess that was just the way she coped with her problems in life.

Even though mom was on drugs, she always busted her ass to make sure we was situated. We didn’t have much growing up but what we did have she taught us how to take care of it. She taught me everything I know today to get through life, things such as dignity, morals, integrity, self-discipline, loyalty and overall just how to carry myself as a young man and how to respect myself and my elders.

As I brushed my teeth to get my day started and put my clothes on, I left out the house and walked to my friend’s house who lived down the street on Keeler and Krystal. His name was Jeremy Baggett, but he was also known as JayJay. He lived behind the liquor store that was on Division and Keeler called “Pete’s and Jack’s.” He also worked there too. I was always with Jay-Jay everyday at the time because we lived so close and also all of our relatives grew up and knew each other.

So we began rotating with each other heavy going to the flea market on Division and Kilpatrick to buy bb guns, walking on Harding and Chicago Avenue to kick it with other friends and family and things of that nature. So that day was just a regular day for us.

When I walked to Jay-Jay's house to ask him to come with me to buy some shoes, he said “Yea.”

So we walked to the store on Division and Pulaski down the street, got some junk food, and as we coming out the store my second oldest sister Gabrielle’s baby daddy Maine honked his horn at me and Jay-Jay. He was driving a four door Burgandy Mercury. He pulled over and asked us, “Where you going?” We tell him and he offers to drop us off. When we made it on Madison and Pulaski, we walked to Diana’s shoe store. There I got my shoes which were a pair of brown New Balance; it’s all I had enough money for at the time but I was happy and grateful with what I had. So we got the shoes, then we got on the Pulaski bus heading north to go back home. We made it on Division, got off the bus and started to walk home.

Once I got to my house, I told Jay-Jay I'll see him tomorrow. He said “Okay” and proceeded to walk to his house a couple more blocks up the street. As I walked up the stairs and knocked on my door, my Dad opened up the door and yelled, “They just found Betty on Chicago Avenue and Ridgeway. Somebody beat her up real bad and they don’t know if she dead or not.” I instantly dropped my bag on the floor, broke down in tears, and yelled “Let’s go find her.”

ns to go find my mom.

Me and my dad left out the house with intentio Ridgeway where they said she was. We We headed straight for Chicago Avenue and ut ten dollars between us both and that didn’t have no phone or no money. Just abo from shoe shopping. As we walked to was mainly from what I had left over earlier thinking who would beat her up so badly.

Chicago and Ridgeway, we’re just crying and rage. She was strong as hell. Me and my Even though she was a female, she wasn’t ave er knew her or they snuck up on her! dad was thinking whoever did this to her eith

When we arrived on Chicago Ave. and Harding, we found my mom's friend. His name was “Haywood.” We instantly asked him what happened to Betty.

He said, “They found her in the gangway back there on Ridgeway. The ambulance picked her up about a couple hours ago and rushed her to the hospital.” We then asked, “What hospital they take her to?” He said, “Norwegian.” Me and my dad hopped on the Chicago Avenue bus going east to California, got off there and walked to Norwegian.

When we walked through the door we asked the nurse “Is a patient named Betty Jean Brown here?” They checked the system and replied, “Sorry, she’s not here.” Me and my Dad got to crying even harder thinking, “Where the hell can she be?” So we left out the hospital walked to Division and got on the Division bus headed west back home to scrape up more bus fare and to find more clues to put the puzzle together.

When we got back home we went to my mom’s friend house who lived in our apartment building downstairs who informed my father on the bad news. Her name was Kim. There we made some calls. My Dad called his father and my dad’s father was calling hospitals to find which one my Mom was at. He finally found out where she was at and he tells us John H. Stroger hospital. We told him thanks and then we shot straight out the door.

Once outside, we got on the Pulaski bus headed south and took it to Congress Blue Line Station. Once we arrived at the Blue Line we can see the train coming so we ran and proceeded to hop the rail without hesitation or paying. We got on the blue line and the train smelled like straight piss. I asked my dad can we move to the next car and he ignored me and continued crying.

Once we arrived at the medical center, we got off the train and walked over to Stroger. As we walked through the parking lot headed to the emergency room, my sister Shannon was outside the double doors crying, broken into pieces. As she sobbed and looked at my dad with bloodshot red eyes and tears running down her face, she cried out loud, “Phil, what happened to my Momma. That don’t look like her.” He cried out loud and said he don’t know.

We all head inside the hospital and went to the waiting room where I found my aunties, cousins, nieces, uncles, and all the rest of my family crying. My auntie asked me if I wanted to see my Mom, I say, “Yes.” She told me to hold on because she had to go get a couple people from back there because it can only be 4 or 5 people at a time. So as she brought my cousins from back there, I see them crying.

As I enter the room, Mom is in a huge heating bubble with tubes everywhere, dried up blood on her face from a broken nose, her feet frostbitten, looking almost unrecognizable, and to make matters worst doctors say, “She’s in a coma, not breathing on her own and she on life support.” Here I was just a little kid stuck, lost, and confused. I had so many questions that I wanted to ask her: “What happened to you? Who did this to you? Did you see it coming? Was it more than one person? What happened?”

I had so many things I wanted to do for her and show her that I didn’t get a chance to, but all I could do in that moment was pray, ask God to help her fight and pull through. I left my Mom and went back to the waiting area where my family was. There I heard everyone talking.

So I asked my sister and Aunt what happened to her. They said the ambulance found her in a gangway with her pants down, her face beaten and bloody, and from the way her feet was frostbitten and her temp erature outrageously low, she was outside in that gangway unconscious for more than 16 hours. I just continued crying thinking, “Who could do a 46 year old woman like this? Why were her pants down? Did she get raped perhaps?

What kind of weapon did they use if any to beat her up? The questions just went on and on.

So we all stayed at the hospital overnight by her side to comfort her and let her know it was going to be alright.

A couple days later they moved my Mom from the emergency room to (I.C.U.) Intensive Care Unit on the 3rd floor. There she remained in a coma on life support but she was looking a lot better and like herself. The doctors cleaned her up real good and also she wasn’t in that huge heating bubble any more. The dried up blood was gone off of her face and her frostbitten feet had ointment and was healing. My family also had ordered the doctors to run a rape test on her because the ambulance found her with her pants down.

e back negative but that’s not all.

The doctors ran the test and it cam sing news for my family. They pulled and surpri m’s Doctors had even more shocking to show them the x-rays of my Mo out d Da my and on ann Sh ter sis my oldest was not t any trauma to the skull, so she explained brain and it shows that there wasn’ brain activity which doctors had ited lim s wa w sho did it at Wh . beaten meant that she suffered a stroke.

Also, that if she hadn’t been left alone all those hours and if someone had discovered her sooner, doctors say they would of had a greater chance of saving her life. Everyone was shocked and it lifted a big burden off of everyone’s shoulders that my Mom was not raped nor beaten but there was still a lot of more shit we needed to get to the bottom of. Me and my Family wanted to know, if no one raped her why was her pants down? And if no one had beaten her up why was her nose broken? Even though, my mom was in a coma, Doctors told us she can hear everything we’re saying so me, my brothers, sisters, and family always talked to her.

I was in 6th grade at the time and I was juggling school and being with my Mom that whole month of January. So I always let her know when I was leaving and letting her know when I returned. My Dad meanwhile, remained with her and by her side the whole time she was in the hospital which was a blessing. As the days went by, we stayed by her side 24/7 making sure she was comfortable as possible, and also making sure she wasn’t being mistreated.

While in the hospital we came up with a theory on how and why her pants was down, and why and how her nose got broken. So we came up with this: My Mom always had a real bad bladder problem, she couldn’t hold her urine and didn’t care where she would release it neither lol, so we think she dipped off in a Gangway pulled her pants down to take a tinkle and while doing so suffered a stroke fell on her face and broke her nose. She remained there overnight, rolling into the next day where someone finally discovered her later that afternoon, then alerted the police.

My Mom was a well loved individual everywhere she went. She just had an ongoing battle fighting her demons, which some people didn’t like and thought she couldn’t overcome those struggles. Meanwhile, she was a wonderful, strong-minded, loving, caring, respectful, beautiful soul, and couldn’t do no wrong doing in my eyes coming up as a kid.

I love my Mom and everything about her. The great food she used to cook: spaghetti and chicken my favorite, should I mention, the way she cleaned and washed clothes. She made the best out of what we had, and overall just the way she loved, protected, and nurtured me, my Brothers and Sisters as a Mother.

So I was hoping that she would pull through from this situation so we could rekindle that flame, move forward, and make more memories.

As the days turned into weeks my Mom's condition stayed the same, little to no brain activity. My Mom had always told us growing up that if something ever happened to her please don’t let her suffer. So my oldest Sister and my Dad told the family that my Mom’s condition wasn’t improving and that they felt she had suffered long enough and decided it was time to pull the plug.

So on January 28, 2008 we all gather and formed a huge circle around her in the hospital and prayed to God that he heal her and help her pull through. On January 30, 2008 at 10:06 a.m. God had other plans for my Mom and called her home with him.

My Mom was breathing on her own for two whole days straight and my Dad said before he watched her take her last breath a big tear drop rolled down her face. I had just come home from school about to go back up to the hospital. When I made it home my Sister and my Tete Cosandra informed me that she had passed.

When they told me she passed, I didn’t believe it was true, the moment felt surreal. All I could think about is why I didn’t follow her the night she left out the house. I follow her everywhere any day, night, any given time, or occasion and I never listened when she told me to go back home or stop following her.

I spent years thinking it was my fault my Mom didn’t make it back home because I didn’t follow her. I was thinking if I followed her I could have saved her life because she wouldn’t have been left unattended in that gangway for almost a whole day. As I got older I started to realize everything happens for a reason and when it’s your time to go, it’s just your time to go.

My Mom dying had a huge impact on my life and it changed me forever. Me, my lil brother, and sister had gotten split up for the first time ever. I was 11 yrs old, ‘lil sis was 10 years old, and ‘lil bro was 8 years old. I was thinking about them heavy knowing they were younger then me. I used to sit up in school and just daydream about my Mom all day. I used to get mad as hell at times because I had felt God had done me wrong, so I would question him often.

I felt like he punished me in a way that I didn’t deserve to be punished. I found myself grieving a lot. I grew a short temper and I started picking up a lot of other bad habits. I was fighting anybody in school that gave me bullshit, and I started smoking heavy in sixth grade year right after my Mom died. I got in a shit load of more trouble from 11 to about 19 years old, drinking heavy and having run-ins with the law.

I was living with my oldest Sister. She took me in and treated me like I was her own child despite the 4 kids she mothered and nurtured on her own. Whatever she bought for her kids she bought for me, wherever they went I went, and whatever they ate I ate. I admire her strength and also over the years bonded, grew love and respected her like she was my actual Mom. She helped me tremendously and she would always have heart to hearts with me about me getting my shit together to make Mom proud. Explaining to me that Mom is with me every step of the way now, and also everywhere I go. So the bullshit I was doing and getting into Mom wouldn’t be proud of.

Her advice stuck with me, and I realized I had to change for the better, not just for Mom but for my Sister who was with me every step of the way and still remains here today.

So I’m trying to overcome these obstacles that I'm currently facing as of today to make my Mom, Sister and children proud of me.

Also me learning that grief isn’t something we get over, it’s something we go through, helps me hold on to the love I got for my Mom and not the loss of my Mom. There’s two sides to every situation (the good and the bad). I focus and look at the good side of grief, where tears still flow but not as often, where memories bring smiles not just sadness, where blessings are recognized not just struggles, where joy and peace are present not just sorrow, and where there is remembering not just mourning. That’s what helps me live life to my best potential. Rest in peace Mom, until we meet again.

e

Phillip Brown I am from LRG jeans From white t-shirts and Air Force Ones I am from the 2 flat, brown brick house right off the alley Live, ratchet, and overcrowded I am from bushes, trees, and black gates, Where the grass never grows And the dirt is dry and cracked up.

I’m from fish frys and card games From Betty Jean Brown and The Sims I’m from the “if you hungry, we’ll feed you” And the door’s always open From “if somebody hit you, hit they ass back” And “hard head make a soft ass” I’m from a Christian family, But only go to church on Easter Sunday I’m from the South and West Side of Chicago, By way of Mississippi.

Fried green tomatoes, fried chicken, mac & cheese, Sweet potatoes, greens, and cornbread.

From the house my granny should have never sold To the amazing mother who I wish was still living.

Under my sister Shannon’s mattress spilling old pictures And obituaries of great memories of the past And faces of lost loved ones.

Those are valuable things that no money can ever amount to.

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