Over Food

Greenville, South Carolina
April 6, 2010

Jamille Hardy, foster father

Jamille A. Hardy, 41, was arrested for the brutal beating of his 4 year old foster son. The unconscious child was taken to an area hospital where he was diagnosed with severe brain edema and bleeding in addition to multiple bruises, some new, some old, from his chest to his knees. The child is in critical condition. The foster mother, employed within the medical field, was – as usual – at work when this incident transpired. She told police the child has serious respiratory “issues” which often render him unconscious and he was not abused. Never has been.

Bond was set at $150,000 which Jamille Hardy paid.  The state’s Child Protection agencies are investigating the case to determine if this toddler is another child they failed during their dealings with both the foster family and the birth parents.  The Hardys resided in a very expensive brand new home paid for in large part by funds provided by the state of North Carolina for devoted, reliable foster parents.

Oh, I nearly forgotthe boy was beaten, punched, kicked, and slammed in the chest because he would not eat. Sometimes, when your four and being pounded on and punched in the chest and tummy, it’s really hard to make the fork work right and to chew and swallow and not throw up again so you won’t get pounded or made to eat your own vomit. 

Sometimes it’s lots harder to eat when you get body slammed into a chair and beat for running from your newest new Daddy cause your bottom hurts where you keep getting spanked for something or other because you’re bad all the time and can’t do nothing right including breathe that makes Daddy smile at you and hug you or Mommy make him stop.

I forget what it was this time cause there has been so much I did wrong from the very first day that the lady from CPS brought me to this new house from other mean people I was too little to call “Mommy” or “Daddy”.  Sometimes I remember a little bit, especially when this Daddy is screaming at me, calling me names, chasing me down to beat me – again and again and again and again and telling me when Mommy gets home I won’t breathe then to scream. When he says that, I don’t.

I don’t even breathe right to suit them and there’s lots of times I don’t even get to do that unless Mommy and Daddy say it’s okay once I understand who the boss is and that I have to be good. Mommy’s a nurse and she knows how to make me stop breathing and start again. That’s why she’s a nurse. The we don’t need no doctor when they pound or me or do other stuff. They used to have other kids somewhere they don’t have now.

So when everything hurts even my eyelashes and my toenails, I don’t feel like eating, especially when I have a headache and ain’t even awake like Daddy told the police I was the day they came. Finally. And I wasn’t awake neither when Mommy went to work. She lies for him all the time. She hurts me, too, bad really bad. Badder than I ever been bad. Those other kids who used to live with them was in a different house. Our house is new. I can’t mess it up cause it cost lots of monies.

Monies meant for me.

But if I get to live this time, maybe somebody will find me another newer new daddy and mommy who won’t love me so hard. Love hurts lots, you know.

If I do – and they don’t – then I won’t.

Live I mean.

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