Advertisement

VOICES OF TWO VICTIMS' FAMILY AND FRIENDS : Sorting Out the Pain : Sherri Foreman: Her boyfriend sometimes feels 'a deep depression. . . . I cannot believe she is not coming home.'

April 30, 1993

S herri Foreman, 29, and her 13-week-old fetus were killed in a carjacking in Sherman Oaks last month. Her boyfriend, Bobby Rock, 29, drummer for the group Nelson, was looking forward to raising his child with Foreman, a beautician and aspiring singer. He talked with Times staff writer Michael Quintanilla:

Sherri was my best friend. She was the person on this earth who knew me better than anybody else, the person I was closest to. We met a little more than a year ago. She came to me as a student. She wanted to learn the drums.

We had this incredible connection. None like I've ever experienced before. She would come over for her lesson and we would end up hanging out for three or four hours.

She moved in with me. We found out she was pregnant in January, which was a surprise to both of us, but we immediately felt, "Hey, this is obviously meant to be."

The night (Sherri) was killed we had both left the house a little before 9 p.m. I was gonna do some practicing and catch a late workout at the gym. We had made plans to meet back here at the house after midnight because she had some errands to run.

There was a call from the hospital. . . . I thought that maybe there had been a miscarriage. I called the emergency room. They told me that Sherri had been stabbed. I immediately ran out of the house, jumped in the car and made the trip out to Northridge. I was just shaking with fear and anger at that point.

There are still a lot of emotions that I am sorting. I am going through the wreckage right now, and it will probably be a while before I really understand the magnitude of what has happened.

Sometimes I feel a deep, deep, deep depression. I look around the room, I see Sherri's shoes on the floor, I see her belongings. I cannot believe she is not coming home. I just sit or lay on my bed with the lights out, taking it an hour at a time. Sometimes it feels like there is nowhere you can go, nothing that you can do to escape.

Another part of me that I am having trouble with is the almost uncontrollable rage and anger that I feel toward the person who did this. Sometimes I torment myself with how this happened. I visualize Sherri getting out of the car, going to the ATM machine. When I think about a 5-foot-tall, 105-pound woman being victimized in such a violent and senseless way, I just want to tear this (man's) throat out. The way in which she left--I can't imagine anything else being more tragic or painful.

Sherri and I had fun together. She was a very energetic and charismatic person. She was secure with herself, independent, happy. She really appreciated the beauty in things. She loved to cook.

She loved and cared for people a great deal. She would internalize the suffering of others. I remember one time she noticed a man in a wheelchair by a Dumpster. She said, "Look at that poor man over there." I stopped the car and she went over to the man to give him a 10-dollar bill. They both started to laugh and she came back embarrassed. She told me that the guy works at Universal Studios and was just out getting some fresh air.

Any time I talk about Sherri, I try to steer the energy toward love and light as opposed to fear and hate. I feel that is what she would have wanted because that is our only hope here.

Advertisement
Los Angeles Times Articles
|
|
|