When a Homeless man is murdered; it doesn’t hurt ANY less than if he had a roof over his head

He was becoming my friend. I met Shakespeare while crossing the street on the corner of Lincoln Blvd and Rose Ave.  I’d just moved to Venice; which is a place I NEVER thought I’d live. While I love the Beach and the Beach community; Venice Beach, Ca is NOT like Santa Monica, Marina Del Rey, Pacific Palisades and certainly NOT Malibu. VeniceBeach is a Culture of transients, wealthy, mentally ill, The unstable to The stable, those in flux and those who have either made a choice to live on the streets Or the choice has been made for them. Some refer to   The Venice Community as:

.  A slice of Heaven

.  Weird

.  Strange

.  Interesting

.  Exotic

.  Creepy

.  Dirty

.  Beautiful   

I can attest to the fact that VeniceBeach is ALL of that and more.  My boss  would joke that I would know the names of ALL of the homeless people, in my neighborhood, in a matter of weeks. Sometime I feel like I’d rather know their names, than the names of those who live in apartments, condos and homes homes

As Shakespeare and I walked in the same direction, a connection was quickly made. I had NO idea he was homeless. It never dawned on me that his very handsome, YOUNG, charming man with a smile that made you feel safe, would be calling the Streets of VeniceBeach his home.  We exchanged instagram information and parted ways after I invited him to try our water when our new store opened in a few weeks. 

He took me up on my offer and showed up for water a month later. We quickly built a friendship and within a couple of weeks, I would hired Shakespeare to work as a part of our “Street Team Marketing” passing out coupons and taking photos with prospective new customers. He’d come into the store and we’d talk about EVERYTHING under the sun. I would share half of my lunch with him or treat him to a lunch at Whole Foods. I quickly found myself offering to allow him to take a shower at my place or even crash when the timing was right. He was my bruther. I would sometimes look at him as the son I could’ve easily had. Although he was an old soul at 26 years young; we had a lot in common. I was championing for this young man. I saw pure light in  every blink of his eye and in  every word he spoke. Jascent-Jamal Warren, A.K.A., Shakespeare, The word smith, shared his desires of becoming a BETTER man. He said, “I want to be better, not just for a woman…my Queen, but for myself.”  He was intelligent, hard-working, hungry for knowledge and thirsty for peace…inner-peace. He was Homeless by choice. He was college educated with a strong work ethic. This was a young artist who simply got tired of the 9-to-5 vortex that most have come to believe as the norm. Sure, being homeless was a consequence of his decisions; however, it was also his price for Freedom. Shakespeare lived his life as a FREE man. I admired his courage. It takes courage to wake up and NOT know for sure where your next meal is coming from, where or if you will get a shower or where you’ll lie your head at night. Thank God we live in Southern California, where the weather is mostly conducive to living a homeless lifestyle. And a lifestyle it is.

Saturday night, Aug 29th, just hours before Shakespeare would be gunned down by, who we believe to be a stranger, who had an issue with him and some other homeless people sleeping in front of the Cadillac Hotel on Ocean Front Walk.  I had been thinking about calling him and telling him to walk to Marina Del Rey and get my house key. I’m feeling heavy and feeling some sort of way about not having done that.  Had I offered him my home for the night; maybe he would still be alive. My rational self also knows that we come into this physical space with Free-Will.  And although it was not my will for this young man to not fulfill his purpose, maybe Spirit…the Universe (God) knew his time here had been fulfilled. 

I often ask myself, “Why am I still here?” I believe I’m clear on my purpose and then something like this makes me question and second guess my purpose. I know that my friendship with Shakespeare was real and special. WE happened for a reason and now a Season. My heart is still heavy and I feel deeply saddened  by the death of my new friend. I feel ANGER and Disgust for those who disregard and discard those without a home; as if they too, aren't worthy of respect, understanding and love. Can you imagine going days, weeks, months and even years without people acknowledging you and speaking to you; as opposed to shouting at you. Can you imagine what it must be like NOT being held and told you are loved.    What must it be like to not engage in dialogue and to be stimulated by human conversation. You too would begin to talk to yourself. It must be a lonely existence. While I'm experiencing these many emotions; I'm also feeling Blessed and honored for having known him.  

My sister advised me NOT to allow the loss of this dear soul to deter me from getting close to other homeless people.  I miss Shakespeare. I will miss  watching him grow into the man  he told me he always wanted to be.  R.I.P.

My hope is that WE will come to learn, sooner than later, that there is NO separation between Us. We are all connected. Having a home, car, money, jewelry, a job and OPPORTUNITY makes you NO better than those who don't have. It makes you fortunate

Fee King
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