For the rest of my family’s life, December 21st will always be remembered as the day my brother was charged with three counts of murder. We found out at 7:30 am, and our reaction was a mix a shock and sadness. Up until this point, we all still had faith that nothing would come from this situation. My brother was called in to work at the gym to assist with a class while my mom, dad, and I headed to the media center on base to face the media and public release of the charges.
We knew the charges, but we were not prepared for what we would be encountering outside of the conference area. What started as an organized interviewing process quickly transformed into a chaotic rush of questioning by a slew of reporters and photographers that merged into one big blur. Although it was intimidating, and we all felt unprepared, my family held strong for my brother. Throughout our time at the media center we had Marine escorts to assist my family. These men helped not only to direct us, but whenever I felt lost or worried I would look up and see them, tentatively watching us, with a comforting smile that could be seen in their eyes.
After an hour of rapid fire Q & A, we were escorted into the building. We were sent to the front of the room, set up with television cameras, laptops, cell phones, and photographers positioned at every turn. Since we knew the charges prior to this press conference, it was not as hard to hear what was being said by Col. Navarre. Our final task of the day was to issue a statement following the charges. Afterward, we met with a few of the military attorneys, two of which will be assigned to my brother’s case. They were all impressed with our lawyer for sending us to the press conference, seeing we were the only family members who attended the event. Now we are back at the hotel, exhausted from our day, worried about my brother, and hopeful that we will walk away from all this one day with smiles on our faces. We still have faith.
When I booked my plane ticket to fly out to California, I was not giddy with excitement. I was not mentally packing my bag, or planning my trip. I was not talking happily with my brother about our upcoming time together. This was different. I was going to California to be with my Mom, Dad, and little brother. I was visiting Camp Pendleton, where Justin is stationed, to go to a press conference, where the Marine Corps will charge my brother with murder. My flight from Chicago, IL got in a few hours before my parents, who were flying from Pittsburgh, PA. I had a brief 3 1/2 hour flight that seemed to feel longer than my trip to Thailand. I do not think I had an organized thought the entire flight. Little did I know that this sense of dread and sadness would not last long. Nothing felt as reassuring as the hug my brother and I exchanged when he pulled up in his ‘95 Jeep Wrangler. It was the kind of hug you see in the movies; where bystanders witness the emotion and almost feel the need for that same kind of affection. After an entertaining dinner with my brother at a local burger place in San Clemente, CA we went back to his barracks. He showed me around his room, which brought back many memories of the Lafollette dorms at Ball State University, minus the uniforms and smell of dirty socks. I tried on some of his military gear the way a little girl tries on her mother’s shoes and jewelry. With over a hundred pounds of military issued items weighing me down, I could barely walk across the room! We talked about past trips I have made to California while laughing about various stories and adventures of my horrible lack of internal navigation (Camp Pendleton is a very confusing place to drive; you tell me what it feels like asking an armed Marine how to find the closest McDonalds)! We didn’t talk about the trial, the case, November 19th; instead we talked about television shows, relationships, and Chicago’s lack of an effective transportation system. For the first time since the day I found out about this investigation, March 17, 2006, I remembered how to smile. I began to laugh out loud. This may sound ludicrous, but I forgot what that felt like the way a person finds something so entertaining they laugh until it is hard to breathe, while tears form around your eyes, and your face turns red as you double over and hold your stomach, trying to make this wonderful feeling slow down. Some things never change. This is my brother; he knows how to make people smile.
A few hours later we received a phone call from my parents, saying they safely reached the hotel, located a few miles from base. We hopped in the Jeep and headed home. Who knows, this could be where the Sharratt family would be celebrating Christmas. Our full family reunion occurred at our hotel, surrounded members of a television station. Not knowing they were filming, Moms did the spit and fix hair trick to my brother, while trying to hand press wrinkles out of his t-shirt. This is simply what she does. The laughing and quick travel stories felt restrained, and we all could not stop hugging. The television station realized it was time for their exit. Little did we know these four reporters and accompanying cameras would be nothing compared to what we would see the next day.
After we had some time alone to catch up Justin headed back to his barracks. The next day, Thursday, he had to report to his higher ups on base to be issued his charges at 7:30 am. Needless to say, none of us found sleep that night.