Today is November 14, 2025, the anniversary of my son's murder November 14, 2013. My 8 month old infant son Xavier Octavian Allen Wildes, was murdered my a woman who beat his head in with a golf club, at BugLight Lighthouse, at Southern Maine Community College, and also broke my spine the same day, causing me to be paralyzed and crippled ever since. In the 12 years since I have slightly regained use of my hands, only fully regained use of two fingers, and am still relearning to walk. The woman who did this has not yet been identified or caught, the FBI is still seeking information leading to identifying her.
And there is still not one single person in my family who cares. Not my mother. Not my father. Not my siblings. Not my more than a dozen uncles. Not my more than a dozen aunts. Not my more then two hundred first cousins. Not my more than four hundred second cousins.
Not even Ben, the murdered baby's father.
My question is, how does one entire family become so cruel, uncaring, and hateful? Oh wait I know… I'm an author of Gay Romance novels, and every single one of them have told me I deserved to be crippled and deserved to have my baby killed because according to them, that was how God is punishing me for being a female who got a job, learned to read and write, supporting gay rights, and had the audacity to go to college. Their extreme animosity and self righteous telling me I deserved it, and it happening at the college, is why the FBI believes a relative hired the woman.
But today is the anniversary of both my son's murder and my becoming crippled and I really am just getting fed up with how my family and relatives not only don't care but are still refusing to help with the FBIs murder investigation. 😢
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