At 1 Union, Moms Mourn Together

Nia MacArthur Cunningham came to police HQ to talk about her brother’s murder — not primarily with cops, but with other women who’ve lost loved ones to New Haven’s streets.

Cunningham (pictured) heard Kim Mozell describe the 20th birthday party she threw for her son, Thomas ​“TJ” Mozell — a tattoo party. Instead of getting the tattoo he’d wanted for ages, TJ was gunned down on March 17, New Haven’s first homicide victim of this year.

“Just a week before his birthday,” she said, looking down. ​“And they haven’t found any leads. They have no answers. So I just miss him and hurt every day.”

Now, in order to cope with her son’s death, Mozell, like Cunningham, comes the third Wednesday of each month, at 6:30 p.m., to the New Haven police department at 1 Union Ave., for a support group. There, gathered around a large table in the police chief’s conference room, she sits with other mothers and family members of victims of homicides.

The room’s been getting fuller by the month. This past Wednesday night the women cried, and they shared stories of setbacks, triumphs, and getting through it all.

One of those mothers was Tracey Fulton. She and her family were on their way to having family portraits taken on a crisp October morning in 2010. Instead of holding on to happy memories preserved on film, Tracey Fulton holds now, instead, the bitter vision of her son being shot to death, right in front of her. Fulton’s son, William Baines, was 27 years old when he was killed.

“Every night I close my eyes and I see him fall down on that ground in front of me,” she said softly, speaking to a group of about 30 people gathered around a large table. ​“The first time I was even able to visit his grave was this mother’s day. I’ve never felt so alone in my life.”

“I do my best,” Fulton continued. ​“I say, ​‘don’t pity me.’ If I’m crying, let me cry. Let me work through this.”

Just a year ago, this group numbered maybe five or six people each month.On Wednesday night nearly 30 people showed up to the chief’s conference room, family members grieving loved ones lost to homicide. It was mostly moms. There were also cousins, siblings, grandparents.

And a group of dads showed up from another New Haven support group for survivors called ​“Fathers Cry Too.”

Since 2011, Officer Jillian Knox has been working behind the scenes, playing a quiet role in the resurgence and new found vibrancy of New Haven’s group. which is affiliated with a statewide group called Survivors of Homicide..

Knox works quietly, largely behind the scenes. She spent most of Wednesday’s meeting listening, finding chairs for latecomers, passing out donuts, encouraging people to speak. Nearly everyone who spoke mentioned something about the help Knox had provided them — support, rides, information, contacts.

Knox is a survivor herself. Her cousin was killed years ago in New Haven.

“So many families are affected by violence,” she said. ​“But people still think they’re alone. It’s important for them not to feel that way, and to develop support systems. And to know that just because an arrest is made in a case, that doesn’t necessarily mean immediate closure. That’s why we do this.”

Knox gets the information out to families, organizes rides, even picks up some attendees herself. She works with Jessica Norton of Survivors of Homicide to get survivors information and support. The group functions as a meeting place for parents, grandparents, siblings, cousins and friends of the murdered loved ones.

It’s also a conduit for pain, in some ways; Wednesday night’s meeting brought raw emotions to the surface. During the loosely formatted two-hour session, the attendees each took a turn saying what was on their mind. They didn’t hold back: there was pain, anger, sometimes joy, always sadness.

It was Nia McArthur Cunningham’s second night at the group. Her brother, Robert McArthur, was murdered on June 11, 2011, on Kimberly Avenue in New Haven, the 16th homicide of the year. He was 33.

“His murder is still unsolved,” she said. ​“I wanted our mother to come down here but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it.”

Cunningham was accompanied by her brother, New Haven Police Officer Quintarus McArthur. He stood quietly behind her as she continued to speak, clutching a photo of her slain brother and the daughter who survived him.

“But I like being here, hearing other people’s stories,” she said. ​“It gives me the drive to go on. And anything I can do to help anyone else’s case get solved, I will do. You don’t know how it feels until it happens to you.”

That theme — the solving of cases, closure — recurred through the night. Parents offered stories of the frustrations of unsolved cases. Others admitted that even though their cases were solved, they struggle daily with thoughts of anger, bitterness, and resentment.

Each speaker agreed that naming and dealing with those emotions is most important in the healing process.

Thomas Daniels, president of ​“Fathers Cry Too,” was vocal throughout the evening, offering words of support and kindness to others. His son, Thomas Daniels Jr., was killed in March 2009 at the age of 18. The case is still unsolved. Daniels expressed frustration at both the continued killings across the city and the number of unsolved cases that remain.

“It’s going to take a reconnection between the community and the police department,” he said. ​“When I was coming up, there were a lot of black detectives, and they were from New Haven. A lot of cases got solved in the ​‘80s and ​‘90s because people were talking to the people that looked like them.”

Police Chief Dean Esserman, who attends the monthly meetings sat directly across the table from Daniels. He listened carefully to each speaker.

Esserman said he plans to put together a new“cold case” squad to look into unsolved homicides. It would bring a number of those retired detectives return to the force to partner with existing detectives.

“I need you to know you’re important to us — and I speak to you as a father. Our children are supposed to bury us, not the other way around. We are your police department, even when you’re mad at us. Even when we disappoint you,” Esserman said.

After the meeting, Daniels said he planned to give the Chief the benefit of the doubt. ​“He sound sincere,” he said. ​“And he looked me in the eyes. So we’ll see, I hope things get done.” 

He and the other fathers plan to be back next month.

“I want those of you who haven’t had any closure yet — if you can call it closure — to just have hope. Remain hopeful,” Officer Knox told the group when she finally spoke. ​“The detectives really are out there doing their jobs, everything they can do. You’re going to have some of the same feelings four days or 14 years later. There’s just going to be a missing part in your heart. But stay grounded, keep going to groups, find a church home. Stay hopeful.”

For more information about the support group, contact Survivors of Homicide, Inc. at 1 – 888-833‑4764.