Harsimran Randhawa Victim Impact Statement
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Harsimran Randhawa March 24 2013 Victim Impact Statement Harsimran Randhawa Younger cousin of Poonam Randhawa R v Ninderjit Singh When you lose someone so close to you, it is hard to put words together. Right now I find myself crossing out sentences, not knowing how to start, not knowing what to write because words just cannot describe what my sister Poonam meant to me. I call her my sister because that is exactly what she was, not a cousin, but a sister. The ink on this paper will never be enough to justify how I feel about losing my sister. A bond was broken, a bond that no one can replace. Being only five years old in 1999 I was unable to comprehend what had occurred. Not understanding the situation I prayed to god asking him to bring my sister back. I didn’t know she was gone forever. I didn’t know that I would never see her smile again. I did not know the last hug I gave her would be the last time we touched. As I grew I slowly learned each horrific detail. Soon everything became clear. I soon learned my one and only sister had been killed. I learned that someone killed the woman that used to play with me, care for me, treat me as a brother, dress me up, spend time with me, and love me. I also learned that the man that committed this horrible crime was still at large. Knowing that the man who killed my sister was still roaming the earth must have been the scariest thing I have ever been through. I spent twelve years having nightmares. As a child I would wake up in the middle of the night thinking I saw my sisters killer outside my bedroom window. Thinking I saw him on the roof climbing down to get me. I vividly remember one instance one year on January 26 where I thought I saw my sisters killer driving a car around Sir Winston Churchill Secondary School. I remember yelling at my mother at the top of my lungs, “that’s him mom, follow him”, “I know that’s him”, “we have to get him”. I was sure I saw him and felt that I could relieve my family of this pain. I saw many things, but that was just me thinking that finding him was that easy. That was me as a child wanting to find the coward that put tears in my family’s eyes. For many years I thought of everything I could do in my power to help this situation. But what could a child really do? I spent countless hours watching murder mystery shows, taking mental notes on tactics these actors were using. I spent countless hours in front of a computer screen thinking I could search his name and an address would come up and I would go there and get him, all by myself. I read news articles over and over, reading every detail, examining any picture I could find of him. I made sure I knew exactly what he looked like, just in case if I saw him. I even went as far as looking for tickets to Los Angeles because newspapers stated he fled there. I wanted to wake everyone up from this nightmare. I think about what life would have been like if Poonam was alive today. I sit alone at home, looking at old pictures with tears dripping on every flip of a page. I smile when I see the memories we shared and the good times we had. Whenever I go to weddings I wish I was the brother standing beside my sister assisting her through the wedding ceremony. I wish I was the brother that made that funny speech that everyone loved but the only speech I got to write is this one, one that I wish I never had to write. I wish I had the chance to do that. I think about how Poonam would have helped me through problems and the advice she could have shared with me. My sister would have been married and would have had children.
Transcript of Harsimran Randhawa Victim Impact Statement
Harsimran Randhawa March 24 2013
Victim Impact Statement Harsimran Randhawa Younger cousin of Poonam Randhawa R v Ninderjit Singh
When you lose someone so close to you, it is hard to put words together. Right now I find myself
crossing out sentences, not knowing how to start, not knowing what to write because words just cannot
describe what my sister Poonam meant to me. I call her my sister because that is exactly what she was,
not a cousin, but a sister. The ink on this paper will never be enough to justify how I feel about losing my
sister. A bond was broken, a bond that no one can replace. Being only five years old in 1999 I was unable
to comprehend what had occurred. Not understanding the situation I prayed to god asking him to bring
my sister back. I didn’t know she was gone forever. I didn’t know that I would never see her smile again.
I did not know the last hug I gave her would be the last time we touched.
As I grew I slowly learned each horrific detail. Soon everything became clear. I soon learned my one and
only sister had been killed. I learned that someone killed the woman that used to play with me, care for
me, treat me as a brother, dress me up, spend time with me, and love me. I also learned that the man
that committed this horrible crime was still at large. Knowing that the man who killed my sister was still
roaming the earth must have been the scariest thing I have ever been through. I spent twelve years
having nightmares. As a child I would wake up in the middle of the night thinking I saw my sisters killer
outside my bedroom window. Thinking I saw him on the roof climbing down to get me. I vividly
remember one instance one year on January 26 where I thought I saw my sisters killer driving a car
around Sir Winston Churchill Secondary School. I remember yelling at my mother at the top of my lungs,
“that’s him mom, follow him”, “I know that’s him”, “we have to get him”. I was sure I saw him and felt
that I could relieve my family of this pain. I saw many things, but that was just me thinking that finding
him was that easy. That was me as a child wanting to find the coward that put tears in my family’s eyes.
For many years I thought of everything I could do in my power to help this situation. But what could a
child really do? I spent countless hours watching murder mystery shows, taking mental notes on tactics
these actors were using. I spent countless hours in front of a computer screen thinking I could search his
name and an address would come up and I would go there and get him, all by myself. I read news
articles over and over, reading every detail, examining any picture I could find of him. I made sure I knew
exactly what he looked like, just in case if I saw him. I even went as far as looking for tickets to Los
Angeles because newspapers stated he fled there. I wanted to wake everyone up from this nightmare.
I think about what life would have been like if Poonam was alive today. I sit alone at home, looking at
old pictures with tears dripping on every flip of a page. I smile when I see the memories we shared and
the good times we had. Whenever I go to weddings I wish I was the brother standing beside my sister
assisting her through the wedding ceremony. I wish I was the brother that made that funny speech that
everyone loved but the only speech I got to write is this one, one that I wish I never had to write. I wish I
had the chance to do that. I think about how Poonam would have helped me through problems and the
advice she could have shared with me. My sister would have been married and would have had children.
Harsimran Randhawa March 24 2013
I would have been the cool and hip uncle that the kids would have loved. I would have showered them
with love and gifts. I can wish and day dream all I want, but nothing will bring my sister back.
Poonams memory will live forever and my family and I make sure to get together every year on January
26. We drop everything and come together for one day to go to Sir Winston Churchill Secondary School
where a plaque lays under a tree in memory of Poonam. Together, as a family that has lost a daughter,
sister, granddaughter, and neice, we plant flowers around her memorial. We stand in silence,
remembering our own memories that we shared with Poonam and what she meant to us. Poonam
Randhawa will forever be remembered.
We are always together, never apart, maybe by distance, but never by heart.
