Jazz,

It feels impossible to fully explain how I’ve been impacted by your actions that night, but here are my main points.

That first night in the hospital, waiting to hear whether my brother was going to survive or not, I felt such anger towards you. I didn’t even know who “you” were, but I had such a deep hatred for whoever caused this to happen. Whoever put my family in this situation. This feeling stayed with me through the hospital stay, through receiving the news that Kevin wouldn’t live, and after his memorial.

I realized at some point I couldn’t hold this anger so close to me — I had my daughter just 5 months earlier, and I didn’t want these heavy, negative feelings to weigh on my family. I felt like my anger was causing me even more pain. So, I googled your name. I wanted to know everything about you — to either direct my anger at an actual person, or allow myself to release some of those feelings. I found out that you have a family — a mother, a father, and siblings. And this hatred I had been feeling turned into sadness, and empathy for your family members. I imagined how your mom and dad must have felt getting that call from the hospital. I can understand what your siblings must be feeling now. I have a younger brother, and it would tear me apart to see him go through this.

Now I want you to imagine how this impacted my family. The sound of my mom's voice when she told me Kevin was in the hospital and might not live through the night — I’ve never heard her sound that way before. And I can now recall her voice in my head at any time … hearing her tell me her first born might not live. That moment feels very permanent to me.

I had a voice message on my phone from Anne, my sister-in-law, from that night that I never listened to because my mom reached me first. I actually never deleted it, because I was too worried I would accidentally play it instead. I didn’t want to hear the sound of her voice telling me that her best friend of 24 years, her world, might not make it through the night. I don’t think I could handle hearing that in her voice.

Kevin and my sister Amanda were a year and a half apart. They were almost like twins, they were so close. They talked and texted every single day. I remember telling her “you can talk to me” after Kevin's death … but I can’t replace a connection that formed as babies.

Throughout this court process people have asked me what outcome am I hoping for. I do want the maximum sentence, because I want you to understand the weight of your actions. The magnitude of your decisions. I want you to be held accountable for my brother's death.

I also want results that can’t be promised by this courtroom. I believe that I’ve been blessed with the friends and family in my life, but Kevin was special. He really was one of the “good ones.” He woke up every day with one focus, and that was to make positive changes in the world around him. His commitment to improving and helping his community was unfaltering. Ask any family member, friend, coworker, or even acquaintances. They will share stories of how Kevin helped them or put them before his own needs. I don’t know anyone else with that level of dedication. He genuinely cared and was deeply interested in the people and world around him. Yes, I’m sad that I lost my brother, but I feel like the world is missing out even more by not having Kevin in it.

What I really want is to hear that you decided to wake up every day with that same dedication and focus. To live to make positive changes in this world … even if it's small steps. It would make me happy to know you are out there making the same impact on others that Kevin had on all of us. To know that even though you took away his life, you will carry on his generous spirit.