Hi, My name is Abigail Cameron and I am a mother of 3.  


One of my children is a survivor of SBS (Shaken Baby Syndrome).  Here I was a young mother only 20 years old with a 7 month old baby boy that was heaven sent.  Never ever wanted for anything, a loner I would call him.  He would just love to be in his playpen and roll around with his toys and even a two liter soda bottle (don't get it, but children do strange things, i.e. the boxes instead of the toys.).  Always happy and always with a smile on his face.  The only time he would cry is well .... I can't even remember when he would cry, maybe when I changed his diaper because he didn't like to be naked but maybe that was it, but I really can't remember. 


When all of a sudden my ex and I pick Trevor up from the babysitter (a male) and my ex says to me don't look at Trevor's face.  So of course someone tells you not to look what do you do you look.  My son's face was black and blue.  The explanation was that he had fallen off the bed and he DIDN'T cry at all.  OK being that this man said that he LOVED my son and he was his little buddy and he wanted to buy him matching purple sweatpants I believed him.  He told me that he wouldn't watch Trevor again until he got a portable crib for him to sleep in so that he couldn't get hurt again.  OK, the situation was taken care of, so I thought.  It was Saturday, November 25, 1995 when Trevor next went to be babysat over there.  Since I was best friends with the man's fiancĂ©e' I went over early to hang out and catch up, Trevor was not feeling well that day, but I did have to work and no one in my house was available to babysit so I had to take him over there to be babysat there that night.  I went to work at my security job and went on my rounds, stopped in the plant and talked to a couple of friends that were on break and came back to the guard shack.  There message button was blinking crazy.  I then got a frantic call from my father stating that I needed to leave work NOW that Trevor was going to be pronounced dead and I needed to get to the hospital NOW. 


I called my supervisor and told him what happened, he got someone to come out but in the meantime, I called my ex whom was at another site working a 24 hour shift (since no one came and relieved him at his post) and told him what had happened to our son.  He went absolutely crazy.  He told me that he threw an office desk out a window (which with him I tend to believe).  I got to the hospital and saw my son in the trauma bay and saw my baby just lying there, as white as the sheets he was laying on.  I crashed to the floor, my mother had to pick me up, someone got me a wheelchair to sit in but I was a wreck.  The air flight team came in and we had to leave the room, we were told he probably wouldn't make it to the helicopter which was only about 1/4 of a mile down the street. 


Somehow my wheelchair was taken from me and I started to walk out of the room down the hallway and down on the floor I went once again, I was devastated, how could this be happening to my baby?  I couldn't believe that the person he was with could do this to him.  We (my family, myself, Trevor's father, the best friend and his sister) are all at Children's Hospital of Philadelphia (CHOP) when I find out from the investigator and the detective that the babysitter confessed to shaking and bouncing Trevor's head off of his living room coffee table.  My mother and ex did go to the police station to see the confession tape and said the things that he said and the way that he explained things would have made my head spin.  (still to this day I have not seen the confession tape) 


Trevor was in the PICU for maybe 5 or 6 days when they said that they wanted to take him off of the machines on the 4th of December.  I asked the doctors if they could please post pone it one more day until the 5th.  My thought was, if my baby was going to see God, I wanted him to meet God on his 8th month birthday. 


Well, needless to say 14 years later and countless surgeries my Trevor has not gone up to see God.  He may not be a normal 14 year boy, he may only have a mentality of a 0-3 month old child and can do nothing for himself.  He can barely see, but knows who loves him and knows who we are by our voices and gives us the most beautiful smile he can give.  But my Trevor is my Trevor and he is my Angel "The Strongest Person I Know", sure I wish he was like other 14 year old boys but he's not and hey I love him anyway.  I will always love him, he sometimes is the only reason I breathe, there are days I am so depressed I feel there is no reason to live and then I think of him and know that there is. ...... 


But anyway the man that did this did not get any type of punishment, we did have a trial and the  jury members (idiots) found him not guilty, guess the defense lawyer used my exes anger issues to the best and got that reasonable doubt thing working for him and the confession tape meant NOTHING.  But hey that man (using nice words) will one day have to meet his maker and he will then have to answer for what he did to my precious child but until then, I hope that he lives with the guilt festering in his soul knowing that he nearly murdered my child and permanently damaged him and my family for life.  He has a normal son at home, my son is stuck in a nursing home being taken care of by doctors, nurses, OT's, PT's, other therapists and staff. 


Yes I have 2 other children at home but I SHOULD have 3.


The words of Trevor Anderson-Drews
written by his mother
Abigail Cameron


My beautiful, fullfilling life was taken away.

The pain I feel is all day, everyday.

He shook me hard and made me hit my head.

He laid me down and left me there for dead.

In one split second he shattered my life.

I'll never experience a time with children and a wife.

Why did he do it and make me this way?

With my brother and sisters I will never get to play.

My mommy feels responsible and all she does is cry.

She gets up every morning asking God why oh why?

The doctor told mommy to go home, I'd have no life and it would be best if I died.

My mommy hung up the phone and all she could do was cry.

He can play with his son and have fun eveyday.

I'm here in a home and here I must stay.

To get him convicted the prosecutor did try.

But 12 stupid people said not guilty and let the BASTARD fly.

Right out of the courtroom and back on the streets.

My family cried loud in the hours of defeat.

He'll have to the answer to the Big Man some day.

When asked about the situation no go He will say.

But when I leave this Earth I'll fly high in the sky.

He'll rot in hell with all the scumballs who die.

Straight to the pits of hell is where he will be.

I'll be in heaven where again he'll never get me.

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