Robert-John T. Anderson, brother
"My first memory of Tanzerious was of us laying on the bed & looking over at my mother changing his diaper... all I could think of was, 'who the hell is that'... he's been there for me ever since. We've always had sibling rivalry you know, competition & fighting, but we still always had each other. Through phases when we had our own lives & our own friends & everything.
This one time, right before I was a sophomore in high school, our friends were over & we started arguing. My mother told us to take it outside so there we were in the back yard, blow for blow in the heat. After we were all hot, exhausted & banged up, we went inside & played video games. That was it man - we were tight after that, he became best friend, legitimately. We became so tight after that fight.
Jason, Jason was one of us. He's both of our friends, he's a cool dude. Five us were like that, me, T, Jason, Jon & Manny, we became inseparable. We all came from homes without our dads & I think that was how we bonded, we stuck together. T was a major part of that. He always said family first, family over everything. He was adamant about us sticking together. When he and Anika got pregnant it was like we were all having a son. We shifted a bit, but we made out our makeshift family.
When I was like 19, still young, Tanzerious got a job. We were all trying to get it together. A friend of the family just became a firefighter & he asked us what we were going to do with our lives. He asked us about joining the police force or becoming a post master & we laughed it off but becoming a firefighter? That was real. We talked about going for that.
Soon after that, I went to Job Corps, continued working on me. It felt good. I felt accomplished. I was ready for summer, for work, for life. It was all falling into place, we were becoming men, doing the family thing. Then, like two weeks later I came home and the gate was open. His car was in the driveway - it was odd because, that's not how we did it. Ma always had things in their places, that gate shouldn't have been open. So I closed it & went on with my day.
Then my pager kept going off. My mom kept saying "come home now, your brother has been arrested for murder'.
The next time I saw my brother was in Nashua Street Jail, behind the glass & everything. It was just like a movie but my heart - it wasn't a movie. We're over here getting everything together & then BOOM - back to the drawing board.
Around that time the Fire Department called me. I was all messed up but T, T was always about pushing you to be better & he would do it by example. He was the type to hear your goal about working out & waking up every morning & dragging you out to the gym like 'let's go, you can do it, we gon' do this'. It was the same with the Firefighter Exam. He breezed through it, I swear he was the first to finish & tapped his watch like 'come on bro'. So when the call came in, I couldn't lose the opportunity. I had to do it.
All in all, we were just kids needing guidance. I remember visiting him & saying, 'I don't know if I can do this'. He said 'what do you mean'. I told him 'we were supposed to do this together & with him locked up, we had to focus on him'. He straight up said 'no. You do it & you fight through it. You're not just doing it for you, you're doing this for all of us'. Man, I just about broke down right there with him, with the glass between us & all that. Him too. He just said 'you have to'.
It's all so crazy because we were all so tight so when I lost him & Jason, it's like the whole team disbanded. We were tight, the five of us but without T holding us together, it's like I became an island. I felt so alone... but I couldn't mess that chance up. I just pushed forward, doing my thing & he supported me the whole way.
The way he's grown though, despite where he is. Everything he's learning, the way he's growing & maturing, how he can still have faith & encourage us. Considering where he's at - that's everything. He still calls & takes care of my Mom emotionally, too.
His relationship with his son, he couldn't be there in the capacity he dreamed, but he was there in every other sense of the word. My brother made it clear, you don't let what happens to you define you. T supports people where he is still; he even sends people to get in touch with us for support so that they had something when they got out. They all speak highly of him, how he's a light in the darkness.
He's always been that. He's always been more. Even as kids, he pushed me to get over it when Ma would ground me or something pissed me off. He pointed out the positive. That's exactly who he is now. The way that he used this time to build himself up, I don't know if anyone else could have done that.
At his core, he is that family oriented, bighearted, loving person. He's still very much necessary; everyone that meets him, needs him. He's the type of person you just love & love all your life.
I - I just dream about the day he comes home. I'm taking off mad time from work & we're just going to drive around the city. I'm going to show him everything that's changed. Then we'll see what we do next."
- -Robert-John, brother
ANika Terry, co-parent & lifelong friend
Anika Terry is a 38-year-old mother of two, living in Dorchester, MA. Today, she is a senior associate with a local financial institution. The road to this life was long & arduous.
Giving birth to their son at 16-years-old, Anika embraced motherhood & enrolled in a 6-week program through the Urban League Financial Service Academy. Her dedicated efforts led to a certificate and full time employment.
As proud as she was for herself, her pride in Tanzerious was overwhelming. Anika describes him as her rock & provider, "he never stopped working to make things better for us." She recalls, “Tanzerious passed the fireman’s exam along with his brother Rob… we were a young, but driven couple who were determined to prove everyone wrong”.
In August of 2000, in the midst of their ambitious personal growth, Anika faced the arrest of her boyfriend & father of her only son. She quotes “I felt like my whole world crumbled right in front of me”. A call from Tanzerious’ mother, Karen, dropped her to her knees. She recalls how unreal it felt until the first night when for the first time, she had to put her 2 year old son to sleep alone.
The lavender bath & lotion, the snuggles & singing, watching their son until he drifted off to sleep would from that point on be a routine she walked alone. For months, Anika habitually looked for Tanzerious’ car when she left her job each night. For months, her son would cry himself to sleep, looking for his father to tuck him when the lights went out.
Their new routine, visiting with glass between them once a week, ignited an imbalance of emotions that wavered between love, fury & depression.
In April of 2002, Anika rushed to the courthouse on her lunch break, prepared to congratulate her best friend, the father to her son, her man. To her shock and devastation, Tanzerious Soares Anderson was sentenced: Life without Parole.
From that moment on, Anika Terry was determined to stand on her own two feet & build the life they had planned for their son. “Tanzerious has always had an impact on anyone he’s come in contact with. I didn’t realize how hard it would hit me because it’s always easier to bury the pain. No one could ever know what it feels like to watch your dreams crumble at the blink of an eye. Then I had to continue pushing forward for our son - I was living for him and I refused to let him see me fold.”
Raising her son as a single mother was anything but easy. Juggling a full-time job, she remembers the days her own father stood with her and guided her. The nights when she would talk to Karen until her tears turned to laughter. “Everything I have had to experience with my son as a single mom - it’s not easy. This is why sons need their fathers! This is what my son lost. All his childhood years with his dad? He doesn’t get to have any of those back. My son has lost a childhood, I lost my family, we lost our future… & even though we both live totally separate lives, they deserve a chance at freedom.”
Tito SantosSilva, Cousin
"As a young teenager I looked up to T. He was smart, articulate, cool, handsome, tough. For a brown man in this country, he really was - in the late '90's & early 2000's - the epitome of everything I wanted to be. He was my hero.
When T got arrested it really messed me up a bit because I knew T as this super lovable dude so I didn't understand the full dynamics of what that entailed. I used to write him all the time & he always wrote back.
T wrote honestly. He didn't glorify anything, never once - he was so humble. Back then it didn't mean much to me. Now as an adult, with experiences of my own & a degree in psychology, my work with young adults in the juvenile justice system, I understand that his position & perspective were mature & refined.
The way we as teenagers saw life & talked about life, the way it was portrayed in music & on TV, that wasn't real. Our brains weren't fully developed. We were looking to be a part of something bigger & impressive, we wanted to build a name for ourselves but didn't go about it in the right ways.
As I grew up & our conversations matured, I caught up with his level of thinking. He would remind me to surround myself with the right kind of people because the wrong crowd will get you in trouble. He reminded me not to hang in the streets & chase the facade, that image of toughness & creating a reputation - all that wasn't necessary. It didn't matter. T always encouraged me to use my story to help others. He explained how important it is to use my history to impact our community.
We've spent a lot of time talking about his case & social justices. Especially the intricacies of the human brain & how it develops. Even from there, he teaches me a lot. He continues to shape my perspective & I still look up to him. I do the work that I do today - working in programs for young people, working through juvenile justice & trauma - I do it because of T. Our relationship, the what ifs... what if he had someone to influence him, to direct him & help him to keep his focus, what could he have been & done?
At the end of the day, the system is broken. Over time, working with young adults in the juvenile correction system, I've realized the possibilities for our youth today. I try to encourage them like he did me. I try to educate them on the system & remind them that the decisions they make or don't make at an early age can effect you the rest of their lives. Talk to them about social justice and about how kids of color are disproportionately arrested & incarcerated. How we receive significantly longer sentences than our white counterparts. This is regardless of the crime committed by a white kid is more elevated in frequency or intensity, a kid of color is more likely to receive a harsher sentence.
All this work I do with young adults, I think maybe a mentor would have helped T or maybe not. There are too many variables. Unfortunately, T is the example I use when I mentor my kids. It's heartbreaking but it gives me the drive.
T has never played the victim. He never tried to justify or place blame - he said once, 'whatever happens it's here now'. His strength, I try to harness that in my life. I try to keep moving. There's no time for pity or complaining. There is no quitting. My cousin didn't quit, so I won't either."
-Tito SantosSilva, cousin
Amanda Dahlin, cousin
“Tanzerious is the heartbeat of any room he enters. In sad times, he brings comfort & joy; when you’re excited, he amplifies it. No matter what the mood if of the room, he finds away to bring life & connection. I think that’s what I miss most about him being home.
As a child, I was just a knobby knee, frizzy-head baby cousin but when T came around, I felt like the only person that mattered. He would stop a conversation to give me a bear hug. Even though there’s almost a decade of age between us, I remember sitting across from him at the breakfast table, laughing as I munched on my cereal with a teaspoon from a normal sized bowl, him gobbling a sugary concoction with a serving spoon from a salad bowl. I don’t know what made a teenager take the time to connect with his little cousin, but he made me feel like his favorite person in the whole world.
I’m willing to bet he has that effect all of us & it’s genuine. He is genuinely interested in what you have to say, what inspires you & what you're passionate about. Tanzerious has a world of knowledge between his own ears, but he doesn’t tell you that your views are uneducated or ignorant, no. He’s the first to listen, digest & if he can share some wisdom.
20 years living in an institution with a mission to break down & punish could dismantle anyone’s moral code… but not Tanzerious. His faith grows exponentially. He devours literature. With a servant’s heart, he reaches out to others & builds them up. Tanzerious is the type of man that pours into people in such a way that motivates others to be the very best versions of themselves.
I am proud of the man he has become. I love that as he has grown & matured, he is true to himself, his family & most importantly his faith. He inspires me to pray a little harder, love more freely & push past my own doubts.
I’m long overdue for my bear hug. I’m ready for fellowship over cereal that’s way too sweet in a bowl much too big. It’s time to bring my cousin home. The Time for Justice is Now.”
-Amanda L. Dahlin