The Deceased Child
Sept. 19, 2019 — Today I received the affidavit Damian had promised to send weeks ago.
It’s dated Jan. 20, 2005 — two days after he murdered his wife and toddler.
Its six pages outline some horrid details of that night.
“That Officer Redfearn informed your affiant that he observed an adult female wearing no shirt laying on the floor on her left side and that there was blood on her body and on the surrounding floor.
“That Officer Redfearn further informed your affiant that next to the deceased female he observed a deceased child of approximately two to three years of age and of unknown sex.
“That Officer Redfearn stated that he observed that the deceased child was on its back and that a wooden handled kitchen knife was sticking from the center of the child’s chest area.”
It’s been, I don’t know, 10 minutes since I read that last sentence. I cannot erase the image from my mind’s eye. I know nothing of the child’s appearance, facial features, clothing, nor the color of the carpet, the size of the room or how it was decorated. I do know there was anger. And blood. And death. And a child. With a kitchen knife protruding from his chest.
His name was Rayven. He was a year old.
On more than one occasion, Damian has told me he doesn’t remember much about killing his wife and son. Just that it was loud, then it was quiet. He’s compared his memory of the murders to being in a violent car accident: One moment you’re driving, the next you’re lying on the pavement with no recollection of how you got there.
The affidavit states that Damian’s 6-year-old daughter and 5-year-old son ran to a neighbor’s house for help after witnessing their father choking their mother. With the children inside his home, the document details how the neighbor intently watched Damian’s house. The neighbor saw an adult male — presumably, Damian — leave the house without a shirt on and reach into a car parked in the driveway. The neighbor then saw the man walk around the perimeter of the house, pause, go back inside and exit a few minutes later “carrying something that he believed to be a shirt.”
Then the man got into the car and drove away.
About the Author
Andréa Maria Cecil is a career editor and writer whose experience includes six years as Assistant Managing Editor and Head Writer at CrossFit Inc. headquarters. She spent the first 12 years of her professional life as a journalist — starting with The Associated Press in Detroit and Baltimore — before transitioning to content marketing with an emphasis on authentic storytelling. She is the editor of “Speal: A David and Goliath Story” by Chris Spealler that sold 10,000 copies worldwide.
