Annie’s Voice: Fighting Fentanyl & Seeking Justice

05/19/2026

🚨 PSA TO THE PUBLIC 🚨

If your loved one ever becomes the victim of a homicide in Newberry, understand this: your grief may quickly become secondary to fighting for answers.

This fight is not over for Annie. Not even close.

City of Newberry Police Department — Annie deserved better. My family deserved better. And every family who loses someone deserves better than the treatment we have received.

A grieving family should have ONE job: to grieve the person they lost.

Instead, we have spent nearly a year begging for answers, begging for communication, begging to be treated like human beings while trying to survive the worst pain imaginable. No family should have to drag information out of the very people who are supposed to protect the public and seek truth for the dead.

The way my family has been handled is unacceptable.

When a loved one dies, families should not be left feeling ignored, dismissed, stonewalled, or made to feel like asking questions is a problem. Compassion should be the bare minimum. Transparency should be the bare minimum. Basic respect should be the bare minimum.

But with Newberry, grieving had to be put on the back burner because if we sat quietly and trusted the process, we would still be sitting here with nothing.

That should outrage every single person in this community.

Annie was 20 years old. She was loved. She mattered. Her life had value. And no family should have to fight this hard just to feel like their loved one mattered to the people sworn to serve and protect.

City of Newberry police depatment— you failed my family. And I will make sure people know exactly how my family was treated and how this department handles homicide cases, because the public deserves to know. Accountability matters. Transparency matters. And Annie’s life mattered.

We are not done.
Not even close.

To the ones responsible- you stole my favorite person, my absolute favorite.

05/15/2026

I stand behind every word my dad wrote.

For nearly a year, my family has been patient, respectful, and fair while dealing with the unimaginable pain of losing Annie. We stayed quiet longer than we should have because we truly hoped the City of Newberry would do the right thing. We did not receive that same respect in return, and the public deserves to know what we have been up against behind closed doors.

The City of Newberry failed Annie. That is the truth.

What should have been treated with urgency and seriousness instead felt cold, dismissive, and completely lacking compassion. My parents and I sat in meetings regarding Annie’s death and watched behavior, body language, and attitudes that no grieving family should ever have to witness from public servants entrusted to investigate the death of a 20-year-old girl.

Nearly a year later, we are still the ones pushing, asking questions, demanding accountability, and trying to force urgency into a system that should have had it from day one.

We took every avenue we could. For nearly a year, my parents and I have pleaded to Alan Wilson and David Stumbo for help, urgency, and accountability, and the truth is neither seemed to care enough to truly fight for Annie.

People need to be careful who they vote for and who they place in positions of power. Titles mean nothing if the people holding them only fight when it benefits themselves. South Carolina does not need more officials who are good at speeches and podiums. We need people with important titles who will actually do their jobs and care about our loved ones just as much as they care about their own.

Because when tragedy finally hits your family and you are the one begging for urgency, transparency, and someone — anyone — to genuinely care, you will quickly realize which officials truly serve the people and which ones only serve themselves.

My family learned that lesson the hardest way possible.

Silence is no longer an option.

This is not the end of Annie’s story, and we are not done fighting for her.

05/12/2026

05/02/2026

If fentanyl hasn’t touched your life yet, I pray it never does.

But the reality is… it doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t care who you are, where you come from, or how careful you think you’re being.

More and more families are waking up to the kind of loss you never truly understand until it’s yours. And 9 times out of 10, people know someone—a friend, a cousin, a classmate—whose life was taken by this.

This isn’t rare. This isn’t “someone else’s problem.”
This is happening everywhere.

I wish more than anything I didn’t know this kind of pain firsthand. But I do.

So I’ll keep speaking on it… because this is real life for so many of us now. 🤍

04/29/2026

On Fent*nyl Awareness Day, I want to raise awareness for the ones who deal it for chump change, knowing damn well what it can do.

One handoff.
A few dollars.
And a human life is gone.

You know exactly who you are. You and your whole circle are nothing but washed up losers. A complete waste.

Instead of helping Annie, you fed her death. You watched her die and did nothing to help her in any way.

So I only have one question:

Was it worth it?

Was a few dollars worth a human life?

The truth is, we need more than awareness. We need accountability for the ones dealing death, and we need accountability for the ones who stand by and let it happen.

I thank God for pulling Annie out of what she was surrounded by. I wish every day Annie, her smile, infectious laugh and humor was still here with us, but I believe she’s finally at peace. Heaven is better than hell on earth any day.

We miss you, Annie. And I will continue to loudly speak up for you, because silence was never an option.

04/05/2026

04/05/2026

Happy Easter to everyone and happy Easter to my sweet Annie in heaven! We all wish you were here with us and there isn’t a second that passes by without thinking of you. 🕊️🦋🦋

04/03/2026

On this day, National Fentanyl Bereaved Siblings Day-
I’m missing Annie like I do every single day.

I saw the biggest butterfly I’ve ever seen today… and it just felt like one of those signs you don’t question.

🪽🦋🦋

02/05/2026

We’ve become far too comfortable calling fentanyl deaths “overdoses” and moving on.

That word softens what actually happened.

Fentanyl doesn’t appear on its own.
It is manufactured, distributed, sold, and handed off by another person — every time.

Yet when a life is lost, the focus almost always shifts to the victim.
Their choices.
Their past.
Their struggles.

Meanwhile, the person who supplied the drug is rarely questioned.

That’s backwards — and the law recognizes that.

Distributing fentanyl that results in death carries criminal responsibility because accountability belongs with the person who put the poison into circulation, not the person who trusted the wrong substance and never got another chance.

Blaming the victim is easy.
It keeps things quiet and comfortable.

Holding distributors accountable requires effort, investigation, and the willingness to admit these deaths are not just tragic — they’re preventable.

I won’t be shamed for responding to facts instead of pretending they don’t exist.

So when people say “you have to stop fighting,” here’s the question that matters:

What would you do if this was your loved one?

01/22/2026

You don’t get to hide behind confusion.
You don’t get to hide behind addiction.
You don’t get to hide behind “I didn’t know.”

You were there.
You saw her.
You knew something was wrong — and you chose yourself anyway.

You didn’t panic because she was dying.
You panicked because time caught up with you.
Because her phone lit up.
Because reality cornered you.

You let her lie there.
You waited.

That is not an accident.
That is a decision.

Don’t say you loved her.
Love calls 911.
Love doesn’t stall.
Love doesn’t hesitate while someone’s life drains away.

Annie’s name will echo.
Her presence will linger in every unanswered question.
And the truth will ring louder with every step toward justice.

And when that day comes —
when justice finally stands in the light —
I will be there.
I will look you dead in the eyes.
And you will know exactly why.

You may be walking free right now.
But you are not free from what you did.

And you never will be.

📢📢🚩To Everyone of you involved -

I hope you slip —
not once,
but every time you think you’re steady.

I hope the ground lies to you
the way you lied by doing nothing.

I hope the cold kisses your face without warning,
sharp and sudden,
like consequences you thought you outran.

I hope the quiet screams.
I hope the stillness moves.
I hope every frozen moment remembers her
even when you pretend not to.

I hope winter follows you indoors.
I hope warmth avoids you.
I hope comfort feels unfamiliar
and peace never quite fits.

I hope you flinch for no reason.
I hope you look over your shoulder
and feel watched by the truth.

No bruises.
No broken bones.

Just a life where nothing feels solid,
nothing feels safe,
and every step asks the same question:

Was it worth it?

Because some falls
never hit the ground —
they just keep happening.