Open letter to the people who hold the fate of my son in their hands.

When a parent loses a child, their world stops.

It is the closest thing to experiencing your own death while still living and breathing.

But you are living and breathing, so you carry on.

And time keeps going back.

Time that can heal most wounds, but not all.

On February 26th, 2014, in Meridian, Mississippi, Ray Andrewsson was found dead in his apartment

from a single gunshot wound to the head.

His death was ruled a suicide, when all signs pointed to foul play.

They say when you have a child die that you join the club, a club that no one wants to

be a member of.

And when you have a child murdered, you become a member of a club that is much smaller

and comes with its own unique challenges.

Despite the fact that there were other people in the apartment that day, each with a different

story about what happened.

Despite lies and substantial evidence to suggest his death was a homicide, law enforcement

has not once deviated from their ruling.

One challenge that I did not expect and should not have expected was the fight to find

justice for my child.

Riversfield was sadness, overwhelming grief, frustration, disbelief, disillusionment,

and anger.

A rollercoaster of emotions that was only made worse by the incessive waiting, and waiting,

...