Qawmane Wilson / photo from Chicago Police
Updated: February 3, 2014 3:32PM
In the warmth of her womb, she carried him. An umbilical cord connected mother to son, nourishing him for months from the substance of her very being, her heart and soul. Life.
Life is what Yolanda Holmes gave her baby boy. He gave her death.
That is the allegation of prosecutors who say Qawmane Wilson, 24, admitted to arranging his mother’s murder in September 2012, in order to drain more than $90,000 from her bank accounts and cash in as the sole beneficiary on her two life insurance policies. A man and a woman, both in their twenties, were also charged last week in the murder of Holmes, 45, who the authorities said was stabbed and also shot in the head.
The case is unnerving — even for a city dubbed the nation’s murder capital. A city that last January mourned the death of Hadiya Pendleton, 15, slain after returning from participating in events at President Barack Obama’s inauguration. A city that two months later mourned the murder of 6-month-old Jonylah Watkins, her internal organs ravaged by a single bullet.
But this is a particularly unsettling case. Even for a city where the spirit of murder blows cold like the wind.
This case is cold. So cold. And yet, I hear Tupac’s words burning in my ears.
“And even as a crack fiend, Mama, you always was a black queen, Mama,” he raps in “Dear Mama,” echoing the love black sons — even the most cold-hearted and thuggish — retain for their mothers, even under the most dire circumstances.
I find myself vexed by this alleged case of matricide. By the images of Wilson a k a “Young QC” — an aspiring rapper, actor, high-roller — on social media. A handsome young wannabe thug with a headful of locs, flashing and doling out wads of 100-dollar bills to his “fans.”
“‘Bout to go get this thousand dollars out for the fans, man,” he says, cheesing for the camera, wearing a leopard spotted jacket. “Really, I’mmo take out 20,000 just to show people I’m on a whole different level with this, man. . . . So you can’t put me in a category with the others.”
Nope. I can’t.
Not if he did what prosecutors allege. That would indeed place him in a category all by himself.
And I cannot help but wonder what happened — from the time he entered this world as a bundle of joy, to now. Or what happened to the other young black men whose mug shots I have seen just over this past week alone.
Charged with sexually assaulting a 69-year-old woman, in one case; with gunning down a sheriff’s officer during a masked robbery in another; with shooting a pregnant 17-year-old and leaving her body lying in the snow and cold on Christmas Day in yet another.
What happened? Or maybe the real question is, “What didn’t happen?”
This much is clear: That the love of money is at the root of all this evil. That narcissism and materialism also have their role, and that something is deeply missing.
For no amount of money, not a Mustang with Lamborghini doors, or any other material thing, could ever come close to the value of human life. And I cannot fathom how any son could kill his mother, unless, in some ways, that son is himself already dead.
And yet, I have only tears for this mother who may have given her murderer life.