Because I Need to Move On....

I have formed an unhealthy obsession with the story of Baby P...a 17 month old that died in August 2007. I spent literally an entire weekend researching the story and crying for this little guy, who lived such a short, terrible life. I can't explain why this story out of hundreds that I read over the weekend effected me so much. But after tons and tons of researching and reading every article I could find, I found his date of birth, 3/1/2006. Anthony was born on 3/31/2008 and is now just about the same age that little Peter was when his life was cut so disguistingly short. I will only share a quick version of his life story...I guess even the long version would be much quicker than it should be considering he only lived on this earth a little over a year. He was born in March 2006; his parents seperate in 2006 and she begins seeing another man. Within 3 months little Peter is seen in the hospital for bruising on his head and chest; mother claimed he fell. This began a cycle of more than 60 visits to the hospital and from social service workers. Little Peter was placed on a high risk list and should have been visited and checked by social workers thoroughly and often. In January 2007 Baby P was placed back in his mother's care, after being placed temporarily with a family friend while his mother was detained for suspision of assaulting the child. In subsequent hospital visits it is noted that baby Peter presents two black eyes, swelling in his head, scalp rash, ear discharge. On July 27 little Peter sees his dad for the last time. The father notices that there is something wrong with his son and described him as a usually happy baby. On this visit Peter was subdued, skinny and his beautiful blond hair was shaved. Peter's father refuses to return his son to the mother, who then contacts law enforcement. Police inform Peter's father that the baby must be returned. Peter's father brings his son home and hears the toddlers voice for the last time yelling out "daddy, daddy, daddy". Social services visits Peter's home on July 30th and does not notice injuries to Peter's hands and face as the mother has "clerverly" covered the baby with choclate. Had she even bothered to pick the poor child up she would have noticed a diaper that had not been changed in who knows how long, which had caused his skin to rot, she may have noticed one of over 50 injuries to the child's body, or that the child could barely move and had been placed in his stroller so that it would appear that Peter was of normal strength. Peter is brought to the hospital on August 1 but the doctor notes that Peter is miserble and cranky and so an proper examination was not completed. What was missed by the doctor was that Peter was paralyzed from a broken back and had eight broken ribs. On August 2 Peter's mother is informed that she will not be charged for previous detainment for abusing her son. August 3 paramedics are called to the home of baby Peter and find the toddler dead in his blood spattered cot. According to an eye-witness (the 15 year old girlfriend of a 30+ friend who was living in the home) on the night of August 2 Peter was in his room crying loudly, after spending the entire day confined by himself in the dark room and unchanged. Peter's nazi fanatic step father told everyone that he would "sort it" and enetered the child's room, closing the door. Silence followed. It is believed that at that time poor, innocent, tortured Peter received his final blow from his stepfather, a powerful punch to the face from a grown man who stood at over 6ft tall, causing the poor child to swallow a bottom tooth. Some time around 9-930 am the 15 year old girl reported to Peter's mother that he was not breathing and that he looked an odd color. At around 1130am the mother called for emergency assistance. Leading up to his death, poor baby Peter was seen over 60 times by medical and social service professionals and had over 50 injuries believed to have been caused by his terrifying step father. The 15 year old girl further reported, after years of hiding what she knew for fear of being found by the abuser and for fear of being blamed for the child's death, that she witnessed the step father hold Peter over his head and drop him to the ground, spin him on a chair so fast that he would fall and bang his head only to have the action repeated, Peter's finger tips were cut off in order to allow the step father to more easily use pliers to remove the toddler's finger nails, the stepfather would bite at Peter all over his body in order to train his two large breed dogs to do so, and how did the infant come to have a broken back? The teen reported that while smoking marijiuana the stepfather held Peter on his lap and played with him like a ragdoll. She then heard the echoing sound of Peter's spine being broken in two and the gut wrenching scream of the toddler.

How can this happen and no one noticed? How can anyone who was in contact with this child during those months of torture live with themselves? How could a mother let any one do those things to their child?

I lived millions of miles away from Baby Peter when he was brought in to this world and when his life was cut so tragically short. But my heart is broken all the same, as if I knew this innocent boy. My eyes cry as if they had ever laid sight on that beautiful, blond haired, blue eyed boy. For the past 3 days, since I first found this story, his face has been burned in to my brain. When Anthony laughs at something, smiles, sleeps, annoys me, says something new, I think that is what that little boy SHOULD HAVE been doing. Someone should have been his voice. My heart hurts so much so that I keep wishing to find something that says that somehow this didn't happen that the sweet little angel is fine and living a happy life.

I have to believe that he is in a better place. That he sleeps in the arms of the angels and feels no more pain. He such a short time on this earth and got to know only a glimmer of the love that he should have. But there is so much love in this world for him, there was so much love that he could have known if some one had just given him the chance.