This week, the stories didn’t just come to us. We walked into them, felt them, sat with them. Some, we’ll carry for a long time.
It began in a courtroom in Reading. Julian Evans stood before a judge and pleaded guilty for his role in the Brookline Park shooting. The final chapter in a case that has haunted this city since 2022. Amiere Bibbs was just 18 when he was killed. His mother spoke through tears, reminding us that behind every headline is someone’s son, someone’s world.
Just as we were processing that, we were hit with devastating news from the Dominican Republic. More than 200 people died after a nightclub roof collapsed in Santo Domingo. One of them was merengue legend Rubby Pérez.
Here in Reading, the Dominican community gathered at Jet Set Restaurant. Not for a concert or a celebration, but to honor Rubby’s legacy. His music played softly while flags waved, candles flickered, and people held one another. Rubby wasn’t just a star. He performed here, embraced people here, and left his mark on a community that still calls him family.
Meanwhile, a federal report confirmed what many feared. The explosion at the R.M. Palmer candy factory, which killed seven people and leveled a part of West Reading, was preventable. It wasn’t just a tragic accident — it was a failure. A failure in oversight, in safety, in the systems that are supposed to protect us.
And then, another shooting. Another young life lost in the streets of Reading. Another family shattered. Another call from the District Attorney, urging us all to come together and end the violence.
It felt like one wave of grief after another. But in the middle of it all, I kept seeing something else — resilience. People showing up for each other. Families lighting candles, neighbors organizing vigils, musicians sharing stories about the legends they once performed with. This is what community looks like. Not just in celebration, but in sorrow too.
We can’t undo what’s been lost. But we can carry each other through it. With stories, with music, with love.
And sometimes, that’s how we begin to heal.
Con cariño,
José
José Martínez 