Monica Bielanko
A chronicle since 2005 of my marriage & move to Brooklyn in my twenties; becoming a mother in my thirties; moving to Pennsylvania and learning to amicably coparent after divorce in my forties while living 3 doors down from my ex-husband in a small country town.
That's What She Said
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Friday
Apr042008

Why Her Die?

This child was murdered several hours after this photograph was taken:



There are times during my job whereupon, because of sheer survival, I am forced to go into The Zone. The Zone means joking about stories that I would cry about were I watching from home. The Zone means I must care only about whether we get The Latest or The Exclusive. Were I to stop and consider that a 7-year old girl that lives but two blocks from my home was brutally murdered by a 21-year old who likely raped her before he killed her... were I to consider that I might not be able to earn my paycheck.



Her name is Hser Nay Moo (sue-nah-moo). She went missing on Monday. Was found dead Tuesday. Hser Nay Moo was seven. She grew up in a refugee camp in Myanmar with her Dad, Mom and three older brothers. They came to America for a better life. Until someone stole her life from her.

Today Max and I went walking. We had learned she was dead, likely killed hours after she went missing, found in a nearby apartment, stashed in the basement at the homicidal hands of a fucked up 21-year old. But there was still a flyer nailed to a tree in front of our home.

MISSING CHILD

It gave us pause. The flyer made us feel as if maybe Hser Nay Moo was still alive. The flyer said "missing" didn't it? We stopped. Carefully pulled the paper from around the nails in the tree and took it home. And looked at the picture for a long, long time.

This girl, this tiny girl. Murdered not two blocks from our home. We hate it. We fucking HATE IT and we're so FUCKING angry about it. But. As usual. There is nothing to be done. She is gone. There is nothing to do but write about her because this sweet spirit is already gone.

So we walked to her memorial,,. one that sprang up in front of her apartment complex, to pay our respects to the little girl who never had a chance. There were several people there. Some crying, some praying... and one little girl who clutched at her mother's shirt and repeated "Mama, why her die? Why her die?"