My son lived in Sivewright Street for about eight months.
In November 2013 my son almost died of an overdose in my room. It was the worst experience I had in my life when I walked in on it. After a lot of tears and efforts to rehab there was a rule of no needles in my house, there was no way I ever wanted to go through that experience again.
My son almost was done with the rehab and then his father chased him away one afternoon. His father got home drunk and when he strangled me my son attacked him to save me. When he chased him away like a dog, I was devastated. That caused him to fall back into his bad habit and for that I never could forgive his father, ever.
After a while my son came around again and often visited.In November 2014 he was beaten in Sivewright Street by two guys who allegedly were robbed by my son’s girlfriend.
He called me three days afterwards and my first reaction was to ask why he hadn’t been to see a doctor yet. Why call after three days?
Eventually I got his father to go to him and take him to a doctor.The afternoon of 13 November he came home with his father. Later I learned he did not take my son to a doctor because he decided his son’s ribs were cracked and he only needed to rest and keep still, saying there’s nothing more one can do for cracked ribs.
The next day he went to town with his father and he seemed fine apart from having pain that he complained about. I still insisted that he should see a doctor. That evening I was woken up by the sound of glass breaking and when I got to the lounge my son was sitting on the couch and looking up towards the fan. He looked like someone who has lost his marbles. I said what I thought and wanted to know what the hell was going on. Why was he looking like that? After an argument with his father and brother about it I went back to bed.
The next day my son couldn’t walk at all and he really looked like a zombie. His brother had to carry him around. I put a chair for him to sit on in the shower and washed him like a baby. I couldn’t help myself; I just started to cry. I told his brother and father that my child was dying and begged to get him to a doctor.They said I was crazy and overreacting. Sunday morning just past 3am my son died in my arms.
He had internal bleeding that lead to septic shock.His organs failed and he passed away.
The police and an ambulance were called immediately.The paramedics only arrived at half past four that morning and then a hell of a lot of police officers arrived. Without even considering me or the situation they mumbled among each other while staring at my son and all I heard was Sivewright Street. A few of them agreed on the remark and they turned and walked away as if a stray dog just died.
I was sick to my stomach because of their reaction and that they assumed he died of an overdose just because they knew he lived on Sivewright Street.
I’m still waiting for the investigating officer to contact me regarding my son’s death. His girlfriend made an affidavit and informed the investigators where the two guys live that assaulted my son. Still nothing has been done.
We live in a corrupt city! The police live off payoffs they get from dealers and junkies. I don’t know why we even have the law anymore because it’s useless.
