With Christmas right around the corner, I can't help but revisit the case of JonBenét Ramsey. On December 26, 1996, a 911 call was made from the home of the wealthy renowned Ramsey household in Boulder, Colorado. This would be the call heard around the world. I won't get into this too much, as this case has been told and told again. I want to write to the delicate six-year-old girl, frozen in time, who will never get to read this. Dear Jonbenét: I am so sorry for your life, death, and all that followed.

Your child(less)hood

Jonbenét, I am so sorry you never got to be the child that you were. My heart aches looking at photos of you. Your eyelids painted with shimmer and your lips glistening red. I can feel my stomach turn as I imagine your eyes stinging as your mother bleaches your hair, because it wasn't your hair was it? It was hers. Tight ringlets and clouds of hairspray.

I wish I could run to you and let your days be filled with cartoons and hide and seek. But your days were filled with learning to walk in heels and sitting up straight in tight-fitting dresses. I am so sorry. Maybe you did have fun. You were a star! But I can't help but think of all the moments stolen from you. Too young to understand that there is more to life than learning dance routines in tiny tights.

You are immortalized as the beauty queen, and that cuts me so deeply. You were viewed under the scope of a maturity you would never attain. Judged on the likeness of a woman when your age would never hit single digits. There is a lot of speculation about more sinister secrets of your life, Jonbenét. I want to refrain from using graphic details because you don't need to relive that. But. I am so sorry for the horrors you endured that we do not know about. I have to fight back tears knowing what may have happened behind closed doors, stripped of an innocence that you and all children deserve. And I am so sorry and so angry for you that there are truly horrible humans out there who spend their adulthood taking advantage of precious babies like you.

Lack of accountability

I can not imagine the pain you endured that Christmas Day. As I said, I will stray from being explicit. Christmas Day is usually the best day of the year for kids, and you should have gone to bed feeling warm and magical. Instead, you were cold. Instead, you met a fate that no one deserves. I could apologize a million times for that night, but today I want to apologize for how your tragedy was handled in the days following. I am so sorry that those responsible for your death refused to take accountability and responsibility for what they did. I am sorry that those who you were supposed to trust the most betrayed you so deeply.

I am so sorry that our mother had the audacity to pick up that phone and call 911. At this moment, she could have made your death one of peace. Had she admitted the truths of that night, we could truly put you to rest. Instead, she exercised her (poor) acting skills to choke out endless lies. I am so sorry your parents decided to act as if you were kidnapped, while your body lay lifeless in their basement. I am so sorry that your parents would dare to sit down in your home, use your stationery, and write a three-page ransom note that was riddled with inaccuracies and atrocities.

You gave your family everything. When they asked you to jump, you asked how high? You dressed up and performed and in return what did you get? A brutal death with a messy coverup. The list of mistakes and heinous actions your parents took after you took your last breath are unforgivable. Your parents had every chance to give you justice. To admit it was them, to admit it was your brother, to admit it was an accident or crime of passion or whatever. They had chances and chances, to tell the truth, but their vanity was the priority. I am so sorry your parents couldn't grow up and do the right thing.

No Rest

More than anything, Jonbenét, I am sorry for this. I am sorry that no one will let you rest. Justice will never be found. Closure will never be had. And people cannot let you be. This case has been beaten and worn over and over, and I wish we could all walk away for you. I am sorry that I am part of this problem. I still try to find new pieces of evidence and hear each new theory. It is very clear what happened to you, but people simply cannot let you be.

I wish I could stop the outpouring of posts. I want to build a barrier between your soul and the horrible comments. It is not fair to you that people claim you are still alive or try to claim innocence for those who are obviously guilty. It is not fair that people use your story for click-bait and attention. Perhaps, I am no better than they are. It is not fair that it seems people forget you were a real human being and not just a hot topic.

Finally, I have to say I am so sorry that you are not remembered for who you were. You are not remembered as a child. You are not remembered for being silly or carefree. It is hard to even find a photo of you without makeup. I am so sorry you can't be remembered as simply a bubbly little girl. You will always be remembered as the pageant girl, the victim. You aren't remembered as playing outside or enjoying school. You will be immortalized as the body found on December 26, 1996. I am so sorry, I wish I could give you rest.

This is just a scratch on the surface of the apology you are owed.

Sincerest regards,

Ciara