Highland Falls is a picturesque town just north of Bear
Mountain about 45 miles from New York City. It has a pleasant,
bucolic environment with quaint bed-and-breakfast inns small
shops, and the West Point Muse um on its Main Street. There
hasn't been a homicide in the city in nine years - until
Thursday, when 7-year old Jerica Rhodes was found stabbed to
death in the parochial school, Sacred Heart of Jesus, where she
was a first grader. Her father, Christopher Rhodes, has been
arrested but has denied responsibility.
When word of Jerica's murder was first announced, parents at the
parish school were concerned that a killer could be loose in the
vicinity. The pan ic soon turned to heartsickness at the idea
that a father who supposedly loved his child might be guilty of
such a horrific act.
I would not be writing about a family tragedy so soon after its
occurrence were it not for what I heard a woman say on the Staten
Island Ferry on my way into Manhattan Friday. The woman and her
friend were discussing the murder. She, too, had a daughter at a
parochial school, and at that time of the morning the news of the
father's arrest was not known. I heard her say, "You watch
what I say. If the girl was black no one will be talking about
this by next week. But if she's white, you can bet we won't hear
the end of it."
Such cynicism may be ugly to hear but it is well founded. In an
essay entitled "Playing the Race Card," the man aging
editor of readingpost.com, Vance Cureton, wrote that the
disappearance of a black, Asian, or Hispanic woman does not
become "a national obsession," as the Laci Peterson and
Chandra Levy disappearances did.
Likewise, the deaths of young black children who have suffered
terribly at the hands of their caregivers rarely command public
interest for any length of time. Hadji Williams, another black
writer, notes: "They're called "Amber Alerts" and
"Megan's Law" and not "Lakeesha Alerts" or
"Shanita's Law" for a reason."
As it turns out, Christopher Rhodes is a black man, and I will
wait to see how long Jerica remains in our memories. Certainly
she will be mourned in her community. The communications director
for the Archdiocese of New York, Joseph Zwilling, told me that
the local parish would be holding prayer services in memory of
poor Jerica.
The child was being raised by her grandparents after being
abandoned by her mother as an infant. Her grandfather, Linwood
Rhodes, is a retired police chief of Highland Falls. He looked as
if he was in shock while being interviewed by reporters.
"Jerica lived with me since she was 5 to 6 months of age. My
wife and I are really the only parents Jerica has known. She was
born in Bridgeport. Her mother left her for unknown
reasons," he told a group of journalists.
Grandparents taking over the care of their grandchildren is not a
new phenomenon, nor are these domestic circumstances restricted
to any one race.
When I was 11 (decades ago) I went to an upstate farm in Walton
as part of the Fresh Air Fund program. I was met at the train
station by an elderly white man whose 8-year-old granddaughter
was seated next to him. After the introductions were over, the
little girl said: "Ooh, she's so skinny!" I will never
forget his response to her. "She's not skinny, she's
slender."
I knew right away that this was a kind man, and while I never did
learn the reason why he and his wife were raising his grandchild,
I knew she was lucky to have them in her life.
It's a further indication of the Highland Falls grandparents'
concern for Jerica's welfare that they sought a private education
for her even though they are not Catholic.
Although the perception of race bias by writers like Vance
Cureton and Hadji Williams and the woman on the ferry may be
valid, one must remember that it is ultimately the editors and
network programmers who decide how much attention is given to
news incidents, not the public at large.
The death of Jerica Rhodes is every bit as heart-wrenching to the
public as was the death of Lisa Steinberg. I look at that picture
of a smiling Jerica and know that we are all diminished by her
death. To paraphrase John Donne, we should ask not for whom the
bell tolls. It tolls for all our children.