The Story of Long Live King Kobe
It was the worst day of my life.
On December 23, 2020, I received a phone call that something had happened to my son, Tyler. In a panic, I rushed over to Methodist Hospital in Brooklyn, New York. While I was still in the car, my son Shomari called to tell me that Tyler hadn’t made it, that he had died in the ambulance on the way to the emergency room. All I remember saying is: “Don’t tell me my son is gone, don’t tell me my baby is gone.” Once I reached the hospital, other family members were there, and we were all told to go to the chapel to wait for the doctor. I felt numb. Tyler’s girlfriend, Ashley, was screaming. When the doctor came in, he told me that I couldn’t hold my baby because an investigation was underway and Tyler’s body was evidence.
I went home. When we drove past the spot where Tyler had been attacked, the corner was roped off with yellow tape. Several policemen were there. I understood that this was a crime scene and that my baby had been murdered.
I finally got to the house, it was crowded with friends and family, all of us in shock, all of us hugging each other and trying to understand what the hell had just happened. It was still almost unimaginable to accept that Tyler had been taken from us.
As I was planning Tyler’s funeral, it became clear to me that my job going for- ward would be to carry on his name and legacy. Ashley was the one who came up with the name of the foundation we created: Long Live King Kobe. Its purpose is to reach out into the community and make contact with the boys in the street to show them that their lives can be different, better, to show them love. We will be talking to them at their schools and in their homes. Our goal is to open a community center where we can offer a safe haven for families and individuals who have suffered acts of violence and help them to heal through one-on-one and group sessions.
LLKK wants to help the boys of the street. Not only with love, but by teaching them that acts of violence devastate families and communities for generations, just as the four generations of my family have been devastated by Tyler’s death.
-Sherma Chambers