Ten Years On: Reflections on the Death of Danielle

“I can’t believe it, it’s a girl.” Those unforgettable words, spoken ten years ago this month, are etched on my memory, the most acrid words I have ever heard in my all years as a teacher.

 You’d think that a friend or family member had had baby. But, no, these were the words Steph, my boss spoke, at the Chase Neighbourhood Centre the day we all trooped stunned into work after one of the  young people known to our project, Danielle Beccan, aged 14, was shot dead outside her house in St Ann’s, Nottingham, after a trip to Goose Fair. We’d expected reprisal shootings but always felt it was the lads that were most at risk.

We wore pink, Danielle’s favourite colour. We all mourned; we mourned for weeks. We stood by the place she was shot in stunned silence. Her young friends stood in silence too; some of them had watched her die; they’d never been trained to deal with a gunshot wound.

The press were everywhere; police stood by with guns; St Ann’s was treated by some (utterly mistakenly) like a grim, vice-filled ghetto, a byeword for all that was foul: drug-dealing, gang-crime and murder. An aquaintance of mine said she could not come to see me – I lived in St Ann’s. 

I wrote this poem; it was read at Danielle's funeral service; the sentiment expressed in it is still fresh in my mind; the memory lives on.

Danielle:
May your life not be wasted,
Your death not in vain.

Young life, so precious,
Lost forever,
That dark October night,
After spending,
Your last fun-filled hours
At the fair.

Surrounded by the friends you loved,
And dying in your mother’s arms,
Dear life, so precious,
Slowly ebbed away,
The cause – a bullet
Never meant for you.

May your bitter death,
That broke so many hearts
Give rise to something new round here,
St Ann’s.
A hatred, or perhaps best say,
A violent love against all that would destroy.
Our dream, St Ann’s, a place of peace
Where guns are never seen as cool
Or revenge regarded as right,
Where old and young, again, can walk
Our streets and ways
Without fear of violent gain
Or dark revenge
From knife or gun;
And no more matters where you live -
Or where you’re from - Iraq, Iran,
Meadows, Radford, St Ann’s
For all are welcome here.

Danielle,
Rest in peace but,
From your bitter death we long to see
 A day of better things - St Ann’s!