Hey everyone, today I’m coming back with a heart that’s hard to describe. There are things I need to say, even though fear and worry are still heavy inside me. You know, I’ve never lost many close family members before. My grandmother passed away years ago, but never someone this close.
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The Call That Changed Everything
It was early in the morning—around 3 or 4 a.m.—when my phone rang. It was my sister Shannon calling. At first, I thought she dialed me by mistake, so I turned over and tried to go back to sleep. But she called again. Then a third time. I finally answered. And that call… it keeps replaying in my head over and over again.
Shannon told me that my sister, Jada, was gone. Someone had shot her. Shot her in the heart. And all because of hair. My sister—just 27 years old—lost her life over a dispute about hair.
Jada – My Little Sister
Jada was 27, a loving mother of three little ones: a 9-month-old baby, a 7-year-old, and a 4-year-old. We had the same father but different mothers, and her mom has always been like a second mother to me. Every time I went back to visit, it felt like no time had passed—we just picked up right where we left off.
Last Thanksgiving, she was supposed to come see me, but plans fell through. Now, I wish more than anything that we’d had more time together. But what’s done can’t be undone.
A Nameless Tragedy
Here’s what happened. Jada owned a hair business called Jazzy Extensions—named after her other sister, who also lost her life to gun violence at just 16 years old, shot in the head. This is the second time Jada’s mother has had to bury a daughter because of a gun. I can’t even imagine that kind of pain.
A customer wasn’t satisfied with her hair. Jada offered to refund her, to take care of it—no problem. But the woman demanded her money right then and there.
That night, Jada just wanted to go out and relax with her fiancé. You know how it is—when you’ve got small kids and you work hard every day, sometimes you just need a little time to breathe, have a drink, laugh, and unwind. That’s all she wanted.
But fate didn’t give her that chance. At a friend’s house, that same woman showed up. They argued, it got physical. From what I was told, Jada was holding her own in the fight. But then the woman pulled out a gun and shot her twice in the heart. Just like that. The life of a 27-year-old mother was gone—over a hairstyle.
Pain Without Words
When I first heard the news, I tried to stay busy. Because whenever I stopped, I’d start thinking about her again. I’d be working, and suddenly an image of her would pop into my mind. I didn’t know what to do with those feelings.
Even now, talking about it, my mouth goes dry, and there’s this lump in my throat I can’t swallow down. That’s my anxiety. I can’t eat. I can go all day without food and not even realize it. I know it’s not healthy, but my body just won’t cooperate.
The Last Memories
What I’m most thankful for is that a few months before she passed, we had a chance to talk. We talked about business—about how to grow her hair page on Instagram, about her new YouTube channel. She was so excited but said she hadn’t been posting consistently. We were making plans to help her get it going.
I remember attending her graduation and watching her walk across that stage. I was so proud of her. And now, all of that is just a memory.
The Funeral and Goodbye
So many people came to Jada’s funeral. She was loved. She was respected. She had a kind heart. Our family honored her the way she would’ve wanted—with shirts printed with her picture, lots of photos, and smiles through the tears.
Looking at our family photos, I see the Mills features in all of us—me, Jada, Shannon, Danielle, and our youngest brother. We all share something in our faces. But now, one of us is gone.
Thank You and Moving Forward
I want to thank everyone who reached out—through emails, Instagram, messages. There were so many that I couldn’t reply to each one, but I felt the love. Even from people who don’t really like me but still prayed for me—I’m grateful for you too. The support has been overwhelming. Shannon said the same thing.
2020 was a wild year—a year of loss for so many. But no matter what, life has to go on. I know Jada would want me to keep living, to live fully, to not stop.
This whole tragedy has been a wake-up call for me. I need to spend more time with my siblings, visit them more often, do more things together. Because life is too short, and we never know what tomorrow will bring.
Jada Mills, my baby sister. Twenty-seven years old. Beautiful, kind, full of life. And it was all stolen over something so senseless. This was a pointless act of violence—a tragedy that should never have happened.
Rest in peace, Jada. I’ll love and remember you forever.
