I’ve been wanting to write to all of you for some time, only I haven’t known where to begin. Most of what I’ve had to report wasn’t anything any of us hoped for, so the intention of this post is to catch you all up and then quite frankly, let it go. Shortly after we last connected, after the fanfare and deep satisfaction of sharing our story on the Real Crime Profile podcast, I plummeted into a pit of despair so deep that I was transported back to the sheer terror of 2019.

Was it an after effect of reliving Josiah’s murder? Hardly. It was everything that transpired after the podcasts — the final blows from the federal justice system that have (at least for the foreseeable future) slammed the doors shut on the possibility of any form of justice coming in Josiah’s case.

First, I must thank all you for the action you took: the letters you wrote, the emails you sent, the kind messages I received in support. You’ve been the silver lining through all of this. Maybe that’s the takeaway: that help and salvation come through the hearts of the mostly nameless, us little guys who speckle the earth, rather than the people placed in positions of power, hired and paid to do work very few ever taste the fruits of.

Rather than drag you through the why’s of what happened, I’ll just tell you the what’s…

If you’ve listened to the episodes on Real Crime Profile podcast, you’ll best understand what I’m speaking to. You can find links to the episodes to the right and/or bottom of this page.

In June, I finally received the decision on my Crime Victims Rights Act (CVRA) complaint as to whether or not my rights were violated by the Federal Prosecutors’ office in Yakima. This complaint was filed a year earlier, in June 2023, after a conversation I had with the Victims Rights Ombudsman in Washington DC. At that time, she informed me that it sounded as if my rights were possibly violated while letting me know that I could file a complaint. The possible violations were how the plea agreement was handled as well as trying to prevent me from reading my Victims Impact Statement in court.

After receiving the complaint, US Attorney Rich Barker, head of public relations for the Eastern District of Washington, made it very clear to me that his office had a clean record regarding CVRA complaints and intended to keep it that way. Then, they drug their feet for months and months responding to the complaint. The way the complaint process works is the office a Crime Victim files a complaint against does an internal investigation and then sends their findings to the Victims Rights Ombudsman in Washington DC. The Ombudsman then makes a decision. Based on the Eastern District’s internal investigation and report, which contained several untruths, it was found that the office had not violated my rights. Go figure. Checkmate. It seemed to me to be hardly a system that protects anyone but the people and institutions who created it.

Meanwhile, another storm was brewing.

It was recommended to me by one of the podcast hosts to write a letter to US Attorney General Merrick requesting an answer as to why the federal government had yet to press charges against James Cloud for the murder of my son Josiah and his friend, Jon Cleary. So, I wrote a two page letter detailing their case and the issues I had been having with federal prosecutors and sent it certified mail. USPS tracking showed that it was signed for, yet, I received no response. One month later, I wrote a new letter and included a copy of my previous letter. Two weeks later, I received a letter in the mail from someone high up in the FBI in Washington, D.C. acknowledging that the US Attorney General’s office had sent him the letter. He told me that if I wanted to know why no charges had been filed, it was up to the Eastern District of WA to give me a response. It seemed counterintuitive to ask the very office I was having issues with, but it was the only path forward.

I did as directed and wrote to US Attorney Vanessa Waldref, the head attorney for the Eastern District. I received no response. I then wrote to the head of the Violent Crime Division of the Eastern District after being inspired by her webpage which stated how important she felt it was to support victims’ families. Also, no response. Bereft, I reached out to US Atty Rich Barker, whom I had communicated with regarding the CVRA complaint, letting him know of my unanswered correspondence. He replied by asking me to send my letter to him. I did–and again, no response. Beyond frustrated, I then contacted the FBI agent who has handled Josiah’s case, someone I have been fond of and have felt I could trust. I vented via text about the lack of acknowledgment–the absolute ghosting–I had so far received from the US Attorney’s office. He responded briefly, “Hopefully you hear something soon.”

Mind you, in the foreground of all of this, major changes were happening in my home life. Brian and I had attempted to relocate to the south to be near my father who is in his eighties. But then, the reality of living in a very red state set in. The people were wonderful, warm and friendly, but we had no access to healthcare or mental healthcare, something I had relied heavily on in California. My dogs, Dharma and Smokey, who had once been Josiah’s, began to suffer from the heat. Dharma’s health was failing and I couldn’t find good vet care. On top of all of that, Brian’s dad was diagnosed with cancer back in California. Everything pointed to our need to return, but it didn’t come without deep grief over leaving my father and all of the good that came on the Gulf Coast: our autonomy as a couple, the tightening of our bond, the sunsets, the culture and the countless evenings spent at my parents’ house.

One week passed after my text exchange with the FBI agent. We would be on the road back to California in three days. Pressure to get everything ready and the tearful goodbyes to my father and stepmother, who didn’t take the news of our leaving well at all, weighed heavy on us. Exhausted and weary, Brian and I drove down Hwy 90, wanting to take in the view of the Mississippi Sound one last time. During that drive, an email came containing an official letter. The letter wasn’t addressed to me nor was the email. It was addressed to the FBI agent who worked Josiah’s case and I had been cc’d along with an FBI supervisory agent and the head of Yakama Tribal Police. It was a “Letter of Declination” — as in “declining to prosecute” — and laid out in three pages, single spaced, the Eastern District of Washington’s position on prosecuting James Cloud (the only one eligible for charges because Donovan Cloud was offered immunity from charges as part of his plea deal–James Cloud is also the one believed to be the gunman for all of the killings, including Josiah and Jon).

I will not go into what the letter contained here. Not because of privacy, but because from everything I know–cell phone pings, evidence contained within the vehicle, timing of Josiah and Jon passing over the Columbia River and onto the Reservation–the letter contained untruths and showed not only lack of care about Josiah’s case, but absolute lack of compassion for me, his mother. Everything contained within, if that is truly their position, should have been shared in a meeting, face to face and certainly with my FBI advocate present. But instead, their office took the same route they had previously.

The letter was written by the same man who told me to stop writing about my grief on social media, threatened that the FBI would read through everything I’d ever written with a fine tooth comb, refused to communicate with me throughout this journey, who I was told by two other officials that work closely with him “you will not be hearing from [him]”, denied me the right to read my Victims Impact Statement in court (only to be overridden by Judge Bastian) and yes, also the one I filed complaints against. Hell hath no fury as the prosecutor scorned, I suppose. He closed the letter by stating that he is bound by law to not make decisions based in his own prejudice. Whether or not he is following the law is a matter of opinion.

Where do we stand now?

Unless new evidence comes in Josiah’s case, the crimes committed against both Josiah and Jon will never be prosecuted at the federal level. Mention was made in the closing remarks of the letter about the possibility of prosecution at the local level, but Yakima County District Attorney Joe Brusic will not respond to my emails requesting an update. He has not responded since April nor does he show any sign of doing so. Brusic’s current term as District Attorney ends in 2026 when he will be up for re-election. During our meeting in 2023 where both Brian and the FBI agent were present, he scoffed that he had run unchallenged in previous elections and stated that he didn’t care what his constituents thought of him. Perhaps if someone else runs for his position and wins, there may be a chance charges will be brought at the local level.

After what happened with the CVRA complaint, the Letter of Declination was the final nail in Josiah’s coffin. And I mean that literally. Because with it, everything I had attached myself to, the last responsibilities I had as Josiah’s mother, seemed to be stripped from me. As a result, I plummeted into a depression which made everyday a challenge, where dark thoughts of not wanting to go on circled through my mind endlessly. The hopelessness seemed to have no end.

What about the book?

As in, what is going on with Remember the Birds, the book? Well, I nearly finished the second draft in early summer at just about the same time that everything else was crashing down. Generally, memoirs fall in the 80-90,000 word range and I had roughly 110,000 words–plenty to begin to carve away at the fat in order to get to the meat of the story. I thought it high time to get some eyes on it, to make sure what I was trying to produce was in fact what I was producing. At the time, I was busy querying literary agents, trying to find one that would represent me in my quest to secure traditional publishing. Often, if your query letter gets their attention, they’ll ask for the first 50 pages of your manuscript. So, I sent the first 50 pages to two different people who know me, know the story I’m trying to tell and definitely know the craft of storytelling and writing. The advice that I received back was that I need to start over.

The news crushed me. I wanted to give up. I came close to quitting my writing group, but Brian convinced me to just step away instead. I had fantasies about attempting to live in a reality where what happened to Josiah and in turn what happened to me, didn’t exist. But we all know that isn’t possible. No life lived that way can be a success. Our stories eat at the corners of our souls until they seep out, often spilling over whatever attempt at happiness we desperately try to manifest. So, I have begun again. At this point, I have two pages I like. Yes, only two and I do believe there are more that can be salvaged from what was previously headed to the bin. I’ll give no promises as to when the book will be born, but I can assure you that it’s currently gestating in a womb of loving intent.

Returning to California couldn’t have been better timed. This place is my home. This is where Josiah was conceived, born, raised and mourned. I feel him in the trees, the sky, the birds and the early morning fog. I am back with my therapist and my friends–back where I feel confident life can also begin again. My job now is to figure out what is next.

Who am I now?

I will always be Josiah’s mother, but the act of mothering and then mothering through advocacy is over. I choose to not give up to the despair, but instead hold onto the hope I have found, no matter the size, until it can grow into some distinct purpose again.

This past week, Brené Brown posted in response to the election, “Hope is a cognitive-behavioral process. It’s about having a goal, a pathway to achieve that goal, and a sense of agency or ‘I can do this.’ Right now, the thing that is helping the most is micro-dosing hope.”

I promise you that no matter what, again and again and again, I will keep choosing hope.

This January, at the age of 51, I am returning to higher education. In my late 20s as a single mom, I earned my Associates Degree, often with Josiah in tow. He will be coming with me again, even if only in spirit, while I work towards a Masters in Psychology with a minor in Creative Writing. I intend to continue to post here, I just can’t promise what it will be about, but I do think with all that is going on in the world, staying connected and building community is important.

Thanks again… for everything. I appreciate you.

Big hugs,
Liz

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