I still have the bloodstained path where my son was murdered. I had big chunks of asphalt and dirt underneath. When they decided to put new asphalt on that section of Canfield Avenue, the city gave it to me in a bucket. It’s hard to go to that street anymore, except for that one spot, it’s cracked and full of potholes. Looking at that rectangle, I thought about my son lying there for four and a half hours. I don’t need to be reminded of how my children are chased, shot down and left in the middle of the road like trash in a landfill. It was very hot that day. The 90-degree-plus sun scorched his bullet-riddled body, which remained exposed for all to see, his closest relatives and the world. I’ll never forget it. It’s hard for me to go back to that place, but every year I have to remind those responsible for justice that justice has not been done!
A memorial event for Mike is held every year, and this year is already the tenth. But it was hard for me to participate. It felt eerily reminiscent of the day he died—the day he was killed. I still mourn the death of my son, “McMac” was killed again without accountability, making this a decade without accountability, justice or peace. Rather than wallow in the grief of his death, I celebrate his life and birthday because his life was more important than his tragic end. One thing I learned from that day: I haven’t had a plan since 2014. I never understood this until August 9, 2014, when a phone call shattered my plans, changed my life, and looking back now, changed the world. To this day, that call launched me into a relentless fight for justice that would take me to the United Nations and expose the world to the brutal injustice my family faced. I remain committed to reopening Mike’s case and holding him accountable.
This mission was born out of the tornado of grief, confusion, and overwhelming grief. There is also guilt. Throughout the chaos, with the Klan harassing my family and people openly supporting Officer Darren Wilson, I felt isolated and had a lot of questions. Why did my son have to die? Why did his death receive more attention than that of other boys under similar circumstances? This isolation, combined with unrelenting grief, also pushed me into a role I never imagined—being a leader for other mothers like me and a protector of the children in our community.
I founded the Michael OD Brown We Love Our Sons and Daughters Foundation in 2015 to create a safe space for mothers like me. It was a way for me to overcome my sadness and loneliness. A lot of demands were suddenly placed on me. People crown me the “Mother of Movements.” Then they said I wasn’t doing enough. But I wasn’t prepared for this. My heart is destroyed. I could barely breathe and felt an unbearable weight on me. Every anniversary of his death brings an overabundance of excitement. Everyone wants to talk about it again and it seems some people have used this tragedy to raise money for themselves. It’s not right because Mike is lost in it all.
I did not ask for my son to leave this world before me, nor for my family to be the face of a national tragedy. I’ve been consumed by anger, despair, and confusion while trying to hold others up to be respected and strong – just hanging on like a broken thread. So the first project I started was Mothers Rainbow, for women of all races who had lost a child to violence. I had previously learned in seeking support that even though black people were killed at nearly three times the rate of other races, there were women of all backgrounds grieving just like me.
Everything I do is in honor of Mike, whose life inspired the four pillars of the Foundation: health, justice, family and education.
healthy
Mike has high blood pressure and has been on medication since he was 14 years old. We also partner with the Jennings School District on a gardening program to teach students about self-reliance, sustainability and healthy eating with farm-to-table foods.
justice
I initially worked with Howard University law students for five years to push for legislative change, such as the Mike Brown bill reintroduced by Congresswoman Cori Bush (HR8914). This bill increases access to mental and behavioral health services for people affected by law enforcement violence. This is about changing public perceptions and raising awareness about systemic issues, particularly systemic racism.
family
We offer grief management and self-care programs for mothers. We also offer support groups and financial assistance to help families heal and rebuild after the loss of a loved one.
educate
For children, we run coaching, mentoring and financial literacy programs such as Camp Brown Kids and Brown Cousin Candy to teach them about entrepreneurship, finance and budgeting. I also established a memorial scholarship. The year Wilson killed Mike, who had just graduated from high school, he could have received a scholarship like the one my foundation had just awarded to 15 students. These requests reflected his passion for the performing arts. They also include an interest in social justice/activism and are suitable for students with a GPA of at least 2.5. This year we donated $45,000 and hope to continue donating more.
But Honoring Mike is about more than scholarships and programs; it’s about addressing the mental health challenges that deeply impact our families.
Officer Wilson not only stole Mike’s life, he stole the voices of my other children. For years they were taciturn and reserved. My other son will be 20 this year. When he reaches the age that Mike was when he was killed, he experiences extreme anxiety and senses something is chasing him. My two sons have different fathers and my other son’s father was also killed 12 years ago. As he prepared to cross the threshold of adulthood, the loss of his brother and father hit him hard, so I found a support group centered around him to help us through it. In the process, he decided to be baptized again and surprisingly felt called to ministry.
Even more shocking was his choice of a church in Ferguson. I think he is brave and proud of him for overcoming his trauma and embracing his faith.
We all face mental health challenges, and we each go through treatment at different stages. My daughter initially went to college but was so overwhelmed when other students found out who she was that she dropped out and went home. I still have my moments where the waves of sadness bring me down, but I cope as best I can. The world may have changed, but emptiness is where we will always be. I pour it out to someone else every day to fill it. In this personal struggle, the racism we face only exacerbates our pain and isolation.
Racism is alive and well; the harassment I faced and the divisiveness I experienced after Mike’s death made this clear. The first time I was called the N-word was after I lost Mike. Ferguson itself was once a “sunset town,” a place where black people were not welcome after dark. Seven-term St. Louis County prosecutor Bob McCulloch is known for never prosecuting police officers or allowing black people due process after a black man killed his father, also a police officer, years ago. .
Despite our progress, the fight for justice still faces obstacles. The legislative process is slow and the resistance is high. The first bill I introduced was ignored because it had my son’s name on it. It hurt, but we changed it to the Helping Families Heal Act and tried again. I’m also working on changing the street name from Canfield Drive to honor Mike – even though I can no longer visit that street. I have been arguing this case to the United Nations and the whole world knows this injustice. They care. Reopening Mike’s case so that he can receive a fair investigation has always been my top priority in the fight for justice. Officer Wilson was never charged. We never went to court because we never got a strong enough investigation. I don’t accept this.
I want people to know that we need to fight for laws that protect us as black people, we need them forward The next tragedy happened. If we really want to be valued as a whole person and not just three-fifths of a person, we have to tell them. If we want equality, we must demand equality. If we want justice, we must pursue justice. Fighting for Mike is fighting for the justice he and others deserve. I will not stop until my son’s legacy brings change, unity, and hope to all families.
Lezley McSpadden-Head is a renowned author and social justice advocate best known as the mother of African-American teenager Michael OD Brown, later He died at the hands of police officer Darren Wilson on August 9, 2014 in Ferguson, Missouri. Born and raised in a tight-knit community, McSpadden-Head welcomed her son (affectionately known as “Mike Mike”) into the world at just 16 years old. His untimely death rocked her and thrust her into the national spotlight. In her memoir, Tell the truth and shame the devilMax Paddenhead reflects on her journey as a mother and her deep connection with her son, offering a poignant narrative that highlights her unwavering strength and resilience. Through her powerful storytelling, she continues to advocate for justice and reform, amplifying the voices of those affected by systemic inequality.
