On March 24, 2004, Lake View resident Kevin Clewer, 31, was found in his apartment murdered, the victim of multiple stab wounds. The case has not been solved. On the incident's 10th anniversary, his brother Ron has written this viewpoint.
CS Lewis said, "Everyone thinks forgiveness is a lovely idea until he has something to forgive." I have had many opportunities to forgive; this is about one of them. Forgiving has taken me nearly 10 years.
I spoke about this idea last week with my children. Both girls said life in the past 10 years has changed dramatically—true for most. Also true for most is that there are pivotal points that bring these changes to life. How we react to them defines us. Pivotal points launch paths to healthy, productive outcomes or sadly victimization. Rarely it seems outcomes are somewhere in the middle.
Never having taken the victimization path I struggled with a detour resulting from an absurd, pivotal point. The moment didn't only affect me; it was critical for many and I believe their struggles are similar.
I remember March 24, 2004, as if it was yesterday. The past few months have brought the memories closer and more alive. The notification from this day changed me; at first in the wrong direction and now, I am hopeful for the better as I have struggled to discover the positive I know my family would want me to find. It was late morning on that March 24 when my mother called. I was in a meeting and let her go to voicemail. A while later she called again and then again. I listened to the voicemails and heard her say my brother didn't show up for work. I was frustrated, but had I listened better I may have reacted differently. Until my aunt called, I believed my mom was overreacting when she said she was worried that something had happened to my brother, Kevin. This wasn't the first time my mom worried and not the first time I had discounted it. It was however, a time I regretted my reaction to her concerns.
Within a few hours we would learn Kevin had been stabbed to death in the bedroom of his apartment. My father found him at the foot of his bed. He was in the fetal position, back upward and my father saw every one of the 42 stab wounds his killer delivered him. My father never escaped this vision and I believe it partly led to his early passing 13 months later. My mother struggled as well, and died 12 months after Kevin and two weeks before my dad. In this time, while divorced and living separate lives, they were both very active and vocal in helping to find my brother's killer. I believe the intensity and focus, as well as frustration, added to the heartache of losing their child contributed to both of their deaths. This time was a sea of confusion, chaos, fear and pain and in partnership with police and community all we heard was, "answers would come." The night of the 24th, the police questioned my father and I and others about Kevin's life, looking for anything that may help find his killer. A few weeks later, I remember sitting in Area 3 Homicide offices talking through more details and saying out loud, "I hope we won't be having these discussions 10 years from now;" assuming Kevin's case would be solved. It's been 10 years later ... with no resolution—an no answers.
Over the years, inconsistencies and allegations of impropriety in Kevin's investigation have been reported. So, too, reported was that the lead detective was engaged in a personal litigation that may have taken his time and focus from the investigation. It was this potential distraction and the lack of progress in Kevin's case that allowed us to push and receive an assignment of his case to the Cold Case division. Did the police fall down in Kevin's investigation? I don't really know. By experience I do know that the "system" can use improvement, and I am hopeful it comes. Being told that the Chicago Police Department has no obligation to keep the family advised is the last thing one wants to hear, even if it is the legal answer. I have realized this system is made up of people, all with their own faults. Over these years, I have thought a lot about those around my brother at the time of his death. I have cast blame and doubt for years. Who was I to judge? I think about that often. I think about it in relation to all of those who judged my family and my brother during this time. Kevin was gay and there were people who condemned him for this "decision." I was told by a minister he was in hell. My brother's sexuality is a position I will not debate [at this moment] but suffice it to say I was and remain proud of him. He was a man. He was a son, a brother and an uncle, and he was incredible in all of these roles. Who has the right to judge him or the circumstances that led to his death? In this regard then what right do I have to counter judge? Who will break the cycle? Who will initiate peace? I have come to believe the surest path to victimization is to not forgive and to harbor judgment. I believe I am obligated to break the cycle. Ten years later, I still think of my brother almost daily, as well as my dad and my mom. I wonder how I and my remaining family will react if answers do come.
I have realized for me to live a healthy life, the one my family would want me to live, I must find the balance in keeping Kevin's memory and his case going. In finding balance, I believe that also means I need to forgive those around him, around me within the investigation. People have faults; faults make us human. This forgiveness is long in the making and I believe I am finally there.
To clarify, forgiving doesn't mean I am giving up. I still believe even though, to date, there are no new proactive investigative initiatives. The police still say it will take someone coming forward.
If you know anything about my brother's death please call the Chicago Police at 312- 744-8261 and reference case number HK- 259944: Kevin Clewer. It's been 10 years—forgive yourself and share what you know. Peace.
