The Silent Witness
A True Crime Poem
O little one.
Whose innocence was tainted
Long before you were born.
How much did your mom know?
Did she know what they
Were planning to do to me?
An American daughter and journalist
With melanated skin like yours.
Like hers.
Did your mom, Jenae, know
That two days after she went
Out of her way to cross my path
In my hotel, on my hotel floor
Her child trafficking comrades
Would try to end my life in Thailand.
And make it look like
A tragic traffic accident?
My heart goes out to you little one.
For you are growing inside the womb
Of a mother who does not value
The lives of other mothers' daughters.
You are growing inside the womb
Of a woman who is a traitor
To her country and her people.
For your mother, Jenae,
Is a confirmed operative
For child traffickers in China.
Where countless children
Thru Finland and beyond
Every year.
O little one.
You know more than anyone
What your mom has been up to.
Who Jenae has been talking to.
Who she takes her orders from.
You know who sent her
To check into the same
Phuket hotel I was staying in.
Right after I checked in.
For months, you have heard
Every word your mother has spoken.
In English. And in Mandarin.
In Shanghai. And in Phuket.
That day in May,
You heard her request
To transfer hotel rooms.
From the third floor to the fifth.
The floor I was staying on.
You heard every single word
She spoke to me that day in May.
When she crossed my path
On my hotel floor
The moment I left my room
To pick up a food delivery order.
Your mom was wearing
A tropical skirt and a bikini top.
Her pregnant belly on full display.
You heard Jenae tell me
How excited she is
To be your mom.
How excited she is
To have a daughter.
How she wants to be
A better mom to you
Than her mother was to her.
The mother she no longer speaks to.
You heard Jenae talk about
How great China's
Healthcare system is.
How much she loves
Living in Shanghai.
More than Mississippi.
More than Las Vegas.
More importantly,
After Jenae and I parted ways
You heard who she spoke to next.
You heard her report in
To her comrades.
That she had made contact
With me.
The target.
That she had acquired close
Visual and verbal confirmation
Of the target.
Hours later, you listened quietly
When your mom stealthed out
Of her hotel room on the fifth floor.
And checked out of that hotel.
Putting a safe distance
Between her, her womb,
And what was about to happen next.
To me. The target.
You see, little one,
Your mom and her
Never expected me to write this.
They never expected me
To live another day
Beyond May 8, 2026.
In the wake of their failure,
Thwarted by Divine Intervention,
A sea of questions remains.
Including a singular question
I have just for you.
O little one.
Whose innocence was tainted
Long before you were born.
How much did your mom know?
Did she know what they
Were planning to do to me?
An American daughter and journalist
With melanated skin like yours.
Like hers.
For you were there
In her womb.
Listening.
Always listening.
Bearing witness to her words
And her deeds.
O little one.
Sweet little one.
Both you and the Divine
Know the Truth.
Watch
