Dressed in a black suit with a pink tie and a pink handkerchief, the favorite color of his daughter, Charles Jones walked with precise focus, as if he didn’t notice the thousands of people staring at him.   He appeared from a side door of the crowded Eastside Detroit church, walking straight towards the main floral arrangement, a crown for his princess with the wordsAiyana so eloquently weaved into it, which ordained his seven-year-old daughter’s still body.  The gorgeous gospel sang from the soloist’s voice as Charles Jones laid his tender hands on the tiny, pure, angelic white casket.  Only six days ago, he had put his daughter to sleep on his living room couch, with a kiss good night.  Now, he would put to sleep for good.

Dominika Stanley would not witness the opening moments of her baby’s home coming.  Overwhelmed with sorrow and heartbreak, this young, fragile mother’s body could take no more.  She collapsed.  She fell to her knees before the pastor could give his opening prayer.  Understandably, she wanted out.  Whisked away by medical staff on hand, Dominika would later return, wearing Charles’ suit jacket to keep her warm.  With strength only a mother can conjure up, Dominika sat by her baby’s side to make sure she didn’t feel alone.  There is no proper preparation one could have given this young couple to survive a day like this, but like the King and Queen that they are to their Princess, they sat court with the most beautiful grace and elegance imaginable.