The grieving family of the New Jersey teen killed by a stray bullet on her Nashville college campus have paid tribute to her “beautiful soul” — with her mom saying that part of her own heart was taken with the loss.
Jillian Ludwig, 18, a freshman at Belmont University, died overnight Thursday, two days after she was first found struck in the back of the head by a round allegedly fired by a career criminal.
“There’s a piece of my heart that was taken from me,” Ludwig’s mom, Jessica, told WKRN-TV.
The slain teen’s dad, Matt, said: “It’s kind of hard to comprehend. She was thriving so well and doing so well in so many ways, in every way.
“For it to all change so suddenly — it’s, it’s hard to, it’s hard to process. It’s impossible to process,” he added.
The family had raced to Vanderbilt University Medical Center when their daughter was at first fighting for her life, before succumbing to her injuries, WSMV reported.
Her aunt Geri Wainwright sent the outlet a text shortly before the family received the horrible news that she had died.
“Jillian has such a beautiful soul,” her aunt Geri Wainwright texted the outlet shortly before news of her niece’s death was announced.
“Her smile lights up any room and she is loved by everyone lucky enough to know her,” she wrote.
“Jillian is fierce. She lives every day with passion. Her fearlessness, spontaneity, love of laughter, kindness and compassion make her irreplaceable to our family. Losing her would forever change the fabric of our lives,” Wainwright wrote at the time.
“We sent our girl into the world to do amazing things. Given the opportunity, she would have. So we have to ask, why was this man free?” she continued.
“What kind of world do we live in where it’s not safe to take a walk near your college dorm in broad daylight? How could someone so carelessly dim the light of a star destined to shine so bright?” the aunt added.
Ludwig, a graduate of Wall High School in New Jersey, was an “accomplished student, musician, and vocalist,” she said.
“She chose to study Music Business at Belmont University. She loved the short time she’s spent at Belmont. She loves her life, her friends, parents and her younger brothers, Shane & Trevor,” Wainwright added.
On Thursday, the Wall Township Committee sent a letter to the community, remembering Ludwig and offering mental health resources, according to WKRN.
“We are incredibly saddened to hear about the tragic and untimely passing of Jillian Ludwig. Jillian was an exceptional young leader within our community,” it wrote.
“She graced us with her beautiful voice to sing the National Anthem at many township community events. Jillian was a member of the Young Women’s Leadership Committee of Wall Township and was the recipient of the 2023 Women’s Leadership Committee Scholarship Award,” the local committee said.
Ludwig performed at venues around her New Jersey community, playing bass and guitar along with singing during the Asbury Park Porch Fest and Red Bank in New Jersey, The Tennessean reported.
Her first show was more than two years ago, when she performed at The Saint in Asbury Park with her band Arcadia.
Ludwig was shot about 2:30 p.m. Tuesday while walking at Edgehill Community Memorial Gardens Park in Nashville.
Shaquille Taylor, 29, allegedly opened fire on a car from a public housing complex across the street — striking her as she walked on a track, police said.
Surveillance video and witnesses led cops to the suspected gunman, who admitted to firing shots, police said. He has been charged over previous shootings — but was released from custody earlier this year after being deemed incompetent to stand trial.
The suspect was accused of giving the gun to another person after Tuesday’s shooting, The Tennessean reported, citing court records. His girlfriend also told investigators that he admitted to her that he was involved in a shooting, according to police records cited by the paper.
A Tennessee library director was fired after actor and author Kirk Cameron accused him of “unkind” treatment during a Christian children’s reading event.
The Sumner County Library Board booted Allan Morales from his Hendersonville library post Wednesday in a 4-3 vote in relation “to the Kirk Cameron event,” the Tennessean reported.
Morales allegedly ruffled Cameron’s feathers when the “Growing Pains” actor came to the city, just 18 miles east of Nashville, on Feb. 25 to promote his spiritual children’s book, “As You Grow.”
“Despite the rain and the unkind pushback (from one disgruntled librarian), an OVERFLOW crowd of families, mayors, county commissioners, and celebs welcomed and joined us at the library in Hendersonville, TN. for singing the National Anthem, Pledge of Allegiance to the flag, praying and teaching faith in God and moral values to our kids,” Cameron wrote in a Facebook post three days after the event.
The event — which also included former University of Kentucky women’s swimmer Riley Gaines and Missy Robertson of “Duck Dynasty” — was expected to draw a big crowd, which caused Morales to become concerned over the limited space inside the local branch.
“Our invitation was sincere to read a book during our story time,” Morales told a representative of Brave Books, who joined forces with Kirk on the book, in a Feb. 22 email obtained by the Tennessean.
“We guard that time because it is for small children and not adults. We work hard at not promoting any agendas left or right.”
Morales tried convincing the publisher to move the event to a church in the city, a suggestion that was ultimately brushed off.
The event was held at the Hendersonville library as planned, where children happily sat on the floor of a packed room.
Cameron accused Morales of speaking too loud during a promotional filming session inside the library, though the swimmer is unsure Morales did so intentionally.
“It’s not an accurate representation of Hendersonville, Gallatin or Sumner County,” Gaines, a local to Sumner County, said.
“I hate that it resulted in termination. I don’t know if it was politically driven. There were bomb threats, a lot of things going on. I don’t know if it is an accurate representation of him.”
Hendersonville police arrested 49-year-old Mark Frakl Thursday for allegedly making the bomb threats last month and for repeatedly harassing the library staff from his Connecticut home.
He had sent at least 14 emails over a short period of time threatening “death and blowing up the building,” police said.
The defeated former director didn’t say whether he felt strife with the actor, but wished to leave the incident behind.
“I just have chosen not to say anything,” Morales said. “I don’t want to add to all this. I’m hoping now that they have fired me that the community can move on. There’s not much of a point to giving my side. At end of the day I don’t hate anybody.”
Brave Books did not immediately respond to a request for comment.
One of the officers has a Taser pressed into Nichols’ leg.
“OK, stop … You guys are really doing a lot right now. Stop!” Nichols says. “I’m just trying to go home!”
As one cop tells him, “Man, if you don’t lay down —” Nichols yells back, “I am on the ground!”
A scuffle then ensues, part of which is obscured on the body cam, but the video picks back up with the officer Tasing an uncuffed Nichols as he runs away while taking off his shirt.
Two other videos, both from police body cams, pick up as cops chase down Nichols in a residential area.
One video shows a cop shooting pepper spray at Nichols’ face while he’s on the ground screaming, “Mom!” several times.
Read more of the Post’s coverage of Tyre Nichols’ beating death
“Gimme your hands!” a cop tells him again, as Nichols appears to try to get up while rolling on the ground.
“Alright, alright,” he mumbles to the officers, and then one pepper sprays him again — appearing to also pepper spray himself.
That cop takes a minute or so to regain his composure, then rejoins the other officers who are still struggling with Nichols.
“Watch out, I’m gonna baton the f—k outta ya! Gimme you’re f—king hands!” one of the cops yells, with the video showing one of Nichols’ wrists handcuffed and held by a different officer.
The same video eventually shows one of the cops repeatedly punching Nichols in the face as another holds him up.
Nichols is also kicked several times in the head while restrained on the ground and beaten with a police baton.
He can be heard moaning incomprehensibly.
More cops eventually arrive at the scene, and Nichols is seen on the ground in a prone position and then propped up against a cop car.
At one point in the video, the cops complain about accidentally pepper spraying themselves.
“I sprayed myself,” one cop says.
“Man, me, too!” the other replies.
A fourth video, which has no audio, was shot from a pole, showing a far away angle of the alleged beatdown.
A Tennessee man – whose heart was perhaps two sizes too small – played the role of holiday villain Sunday when he burned down a family’s Christmas tree and a child’s gifts under it, authorities said.
James Walker, 25, allegedly stole items from an apartment and stuffed them in his car before he heartlessly threw a child’s blanket over the tree and lit it on fire, Dyersburg police said in a Facebook post.
Responding officers saw that a window was opened to vent the fire and the home’s smoke detector was covered up, police said.
The victim wasn’t home at the time of the fire that occurred shortly after midnight, but later told police that the suspect was an acquaintance. The victim also told officers earlier that day that she and her brother got into an altercation with Walker, according to authorities.
Walker was arrested by police officers following a short foot pursuit, authorities said. Among the charges he faces include aggravated burglary, aggravated arson, resisting arrest and public intoxication.
Dyersburg police – through its outreach program – also help the victimized household by replacing the child’s gifts that were destroyed and even contributed a few extra toys ahead of Christmas Day, the department said.
A Tennessee man was freed after serving 30 years in prison for a crime he did not commit –then died just a few months after his exoneration and release.
Claude Francis Garrett, 66, passed away in his sleep on Oct. 30, less than six months after he walked out of Riverbend Maximum Security Institution for the last time, his friend revealed Wednesday.
He had been convicted of the arson murder of his girlfriend, Lorie Lee Lance, in 1993, but was let out in May when the evidence that led to his conviction was debunked.
“Over the past 5 months, Claude relished his freedom,” friend Liliana Segura wrote after his passing. “He enjoyed every moment with his daughter, Deana, and especially his grandson, who he absolutely adored.”
Garrett was 35 years old when he watched Lance, whom he planned to marry, perish in a fire at their Old Hickory home on Feb. 24, 1992. Investigators later alleged that scorch patterns at the scene suggested the fire was set deliberately. A jury sentenced him to life in prison after less than 3 days of deliberation.
After years of appeals, Davidson County Criminal Court Judge Monte Watkins ruled on May 6 that there was “clear and convincing” proof that the so-called evidence of arson had since been debunked as junk science.
Speaking to the Tennessean in May, Garrett’s daughter Deana Watson said she was elated but nervous about his homecoming.
“The plan is that he hangs out with me for a while and then we figure it out,” she told the outlet. “We had a whole conversation about cell phones and how they work. We will help him reintegrate into society.”
In the letter published by the Daily Star, Segura said that Garrett was hoping to hold the state accountable for his ordeal.
“Claude had plans. He wanted the state to be held accountable for his wrongful conviction,” she wrote. “He wanted compensation. It is unfathomable to me that the people most responsible for stealing so much of his life will never have to confront what they did, that they will outlive him.”
Chloe Akers considers herself a grizzled criminal defense attorney. Until a few months ago, she didn’t spend much time thinking about abortion — for all her 39 years, abortion was not a crime, so she’d never imagined having to defend someone accused of performing one.
That changed in June, when the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade. Akers sat down in her law office and pulled up Tennessee’s new criminal abortion statute.
She didn’t read it through a political lens; it doesn’t matter whether she likes a law — there are a lot of them she doesn’t like. Instead, she read it like she would any other statute: What does it make illegal? How would it be enforced?
She was shocked. She read it maybe 10 times more. Surely, she was missing something.
Tennessee’s law is one of the strictest in the country. It makes performing an abortion a Class C felony, punishable by up to 15 years in prison. There are no exceptions. This is the part that Akers has since found herself having to repeat, often eliciting raised eyebrows and deeply drawn breaths: Unlike many states’ abortions bans, including the one in Texas, this law does not explicitly exempt abortions performed to save a mother’s life.
Instead, it offers doctors an “affirmative defense.” The difference is linguistically subtle but extraordinarily meaningful in criminal law, Akers says. The law makes performing all abortions illegal. And instead of the state having to prove that the procedure was not medically necessary, the law shifts the burden to the doctor to convince a court that it was.
She ran down the hallway toward a colleague’s office: “Have you read this?” she gasped.
Then she opened up Instagram, where she sometimes explains criminal law to a handful of followers. She looked into the camera and explained that there are no exceptions for rape, for incest or for those so desperate they threaten to end their lives.
“Our legislature is not having any of that,” she said. “They straight-up criminalized abortion.”
If she would have known that 2 million people would end up watching her 13-minute video — including members of Congress and country music stars — she would have brushed her hair and spit out her gum.
She tried to explain an affirmative defense in a way people without a law degree might understand it: It is akin to claiming self-defense after killing someone. A prosecutor might decide the killing was justified and decide not to charge. But that’s entirely up to the prosecutor. If they do charge, the defendant is at the mercy of the courts.
“It’s about to get real, and it may not happen to you. But it’s going to happen here,” she said. For those who were scared or confused, she added words of support: “You know exactly where to find me.”
And they did. Her inbox was flooded with thousands of messages, so many she couldn’t keep up.
The mayor wrote. Socialites invited her to present at dinner parties. Doctors pleaded for guidance. A women’s motorcycle club asked her to come to talk with them.
She had accidentally become the state’s primary interpreter of this law, which went into effect Aug. 25. Within days she quit her cushy job in a law firm and started a nonprofit she named Standing Together Tennessee. For the past two months, she’s crisscrossed the state on a tour aimed at explaining this abortion law to doctors, and the intricacies of pregnancies to the lawyers who might have to defend them.
As she climbed off the stage after her latest stop at a Nashville synagogue, a doctor asked a question she’s heard again and again.
“Are they really going to enforce this?”
Akers’ answer is always the same.
“I don’t know.”
Nikki Zite, a Knoxville OB-GYN, watched Akers’ video and sent her a message.
“I need to know you,” she wrote. “I think physicians and people will be very confused about the affirmative defense. How close to dead does the patient need to be?”
Zite is a complex family planning physician, and until recently provided abortion care for pregnancies that threatened the life of the mother and for those where it was clear the fetus would not survive. The latter are no longer allowed in Tennessee.
These are often desired pregnancies, with parents who have decorated nurseries and decided on names. It’s devastating every time, she said. Since Roe fell, her colleagues had to tell three mothers carrying babies who would not survive that the law forbids them from ending their pregnancies.
She’s also treated two ectopic pregnancies, where the pregnancy is growing outside the womb, usually in the fallopian tubes. An ectopic pregnancy can never be viable and can rupture if allowed to continue to grow, threatening the mother’s life. Termination is standard treatment. And yet Zite has found herself looking over her shoulder.
“What if someone disagrees with me? Am I going to go to jail?” she wonders.
Zite is on the executive committee of the Tennessee section of the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists, which issued a statement that the trigger law might lead doctors to hesitate, to contact lawyers in the midst of medical emergencies, while their patients get sicker.
One day soon in Tennessee, a doctor will inevitably see a woman whose water breaks early, weeks before viability, Zite said. She will not be on her death bed, but risks infection, sepsis, bleeding.
She knows how risky delays can be: After Texas passed its six-week abortion ban last year, researchers studied 28 patients who were enduring dangerous pregnancies and hospitals interpreted the law to mean they had to delay care until the patient became sicker. More than half suffered serious health complications, twice the rate of patients in states where abortions were immediately available.
“We are now at the mercy of the criminal justice system,” Zite said. “Should I win? I think so. But do I want to go through that? No. I don’t want to feel guilty until proven innocent.”
She signed up to be the medical director of Akers’ nonprofit. They hosted a panel of doctors and asked them: What are you afraid of?
Akers can’t stop thinking about an oncologist who described a scenario pregnant women face with some regularity: They are diagnosed with aggressive cancer in early pregnancy, when they cannot receive chemotherapy or radiation.
Before, doctors would have hard conversations with patients about how they would like to proceed. They could delay treatment, understanding that their cancer might grow. Or they can terminate and treat themselves immediately, save their own lives and try for a baby once they are well.
Akers asked the doctor what they planned to do in that scenario after the trigger ban.
“That’s what we’re asking you,” the doctor said.
Akers knows pressure. Every time she speaks to a jury, her client’s freedom is on the line. Still, she said, the stakes seem higher here.
She’s lost weight. She barely sleeps. She jolts awake at night, her head spinning with questions:
What about insurance companies? If termination is illegal, even to save a mother’s life, will they pay for it? Would that make them an accomplice akin to a getaway driver?
What about nurses? Anesthesiologists?
Providers must submit a form to the state reporting every termination. Now, would that amount to forcing them to prepare evidence against themselves in violation of the constitution’s protection against self-incrimination?
“It’s like I opened a box, and thought there was one question. And in answering that question, 10 more questions arise and 10 more from that and 10 more from that,” she said. “That’s the most frustrating part about this whole endeavor is feeling like I’m on a merry-go-round, going round and round.”
When she first began her tour, she thought of it as a pragmatic, apolitical effort to explain the law without the fervor of the abortion wars. She’d leave the debate to others.
But she’s grown indignant about the confusion that continues to swirl over what the law really says. Many, including legislators who passed it, insist it includes an exemption to save the mother’s life.
“I don’t know how many other ways to say there’s no exceptions. We can’t tell people that it’s not going to be prosecuted,” Akers said. “People might be like, ‘Why is this lady being so persnickety and detail-oriented?’ Because I’m a lawyer.”
Words matter in a courtroom. She’s spent hours arguing with prosecutors over the definition of “unreasonable.” There is no world in which she can imagine telling a judge that her client thought there was an exception, even though there wasn’t.
As a criminal defense lawyer for 15 years — many of them as a public defender — she’s well acquainted with the mercilessness of America’s criminal justice system.
“I think there is this hope in people. That because this is so unreasonable and because this is so antithetical to what we think of as fair and just and American, that they’re like, surely, surely someone’s not going to prosecute this. Right?” she said. “But I have seen cases that would make your skin crawl.”
She’s watched the courts throw the book at mentally ill clients, homeless veterans, children, people struggling with addiction.
So she told the doctors in Nashville:
“Do I suspect that this law will be enforced? Yes, I do. Otherwise, why write laws?”
Will Brewer, an attorney and lobbyist with Tennessee Right to Life, thinks the lawyers like Akers and doctors agonizing over the wording are exaggerating the possible consequences.
“I think you’re going to be hard-pressed to find a prosecutor that is going to prosecute a physician when they can back up their claim that they did this to save the life of the mother,” Brewer said.
Brewer has said — and has written in published essays — that the law should be interpreted as only applying to elective abortions, when the sole reason for termination is that the mother doesn’t want a baby.
Yet he said lawmakers chose the wording for a specific reason: to raise the bar high for doctors to perform an abortion. Exemptions are easier to abuse, he said. It was designed to be a narrow window where abortions would be justified.
The law mandates doctors prove only that the abortion in their “good faith medical judgment” was necessary “to prevent the death of the pregnant woman or to prevent serious risk of substantial and irreversible impairment of a major bodily function.”
That gives them wide berth, Brewer thinks — it doesn’t require death be imminent and it doesn’t mean every decision will be second-guessed.
“You still end up in the same place at the end of the day,” he said of the line between an exemption and a defense. “But you just make sure the due diligence was done and that the law was treated with the seriousness that it deserves.”
He pointed to Ohio laws in effect for years that used affirmative defense language in banning later-term abortions except in medical emergencies.
“Were any physicians charged with violating any of these laws? No, not one,” he said.
That no one was prosecuted because of them does not reflect the true toll they have taken on doctors, said Danielle Bessett, a professor at the University of Cincinnati. She held focus groups with 35 Ohio physicians working in hospitals and private practice, not abortion clinics.
Doctors reported feeling demonized, confused, powerless. They described waiting to perform an abortion they knew would be inevitable until the patient became sicker so the hospital would deem their condition “bad enough.” Others said they advised patients to go out of state for terminations if they were in decent health to travel.
Pregnancy complications are not black-and-white, Bessett said. It was cases in the gray area, where serious health consequences were not imminent but likely, that caused doctors “great moral distress,” Bessett said.
And these Ohio laws governed only later-term abortions, which account for a tiny fraction of terminations, she said. The post-Roe laws like the one in Tennessee will govern virtually all pregnancies, so the number of times a termination could be questioned in court will skyrocket.
Idaho has a trigger ban nearly identical to Tennessee’s. The wording is the same, though unlike Tennessee’s, it includes an affirmative defense for rape or incest. And while Tennessee’s includes one to protect the mother from death or serious injury, Idaho’s scraps the language about injury and allows an abortion only to prevent death.
The United States Department of Justice sued that state, arguing that the ban would force hospitals to violate federal law that requires they stabilize patients in medical emergencies.
U.S. District Judge B. Lynn Winmill blocked part of the ban from taking effect.
Lawyers representing the state had argued in part that in the “real world,” no prosecutors would ever bring charges against a doctor for performing an abortion on a sick patient.
Winmill seemed skeptical. They were asking him to ignore what the law actually says, he wrote. It makes criminal what doctors routinely do to care for patients. One gynecologist had described for the court that physicians were “bracing for the impact of this law, as if it is a large meteor headed towards Idaho.”
“More fundamentally,” Winmill wondered, “if the law does not mean what it says, why have it at all?”
Akers was on her way home from the Nashville stop on her speaking tour when another doctor called for help. Leilah Zahedi, a Chattanooga OB-GYN, said she’d been on a conference call with hospital lawyers who reminded her that if she hesitates too long and a pregnant patient suffers, she could be liable for malpractice.
“We’re being told there’s this very fine tightrope where you can follow the law. And if you fall one way, you’re committing a felony and if you fall the other way and you wait too long, then someone can sue you for malpractice. It feels pretty much impossible,” she said. “What am I supposed to do?”
She specializes in the most dangerous pregnancies. Complications uncommon for most obstetricians are not uncommon for her. She wants to stay in Tennessee, but she’s not sure if the new law will make that too risky.
“The women of Tennessee need you here,” Akers said. This is her greatest fear: Doctors will move to states where they will not face the threat of jail for doing their jobs.
Akers’ own sister survived a high-risk pregnancy with twin boys — because she had top-notch care, she believes. She thinks all of her neighbors deserve the same. One of her closest friends, a lifelong Republican and fellow lawyer, recently gave birth after a high-risk pregnancy. She’d thought she’d have more children, but now, because of the law, she fears getting pregnant again.
Tennessee already ranks toward the top of the list of states with abysmal maternal mortality rates, and Zahedi worries this will make matters worse.
Soon after Roe was overturned, a patient was referred to Zahedi. She’d had two uncomplicated pregnancies before, delivered by Cesarean section. But this time her water broke early at 15 weeks. The likelihood of the baby surviving birth was extremely low; without fluid, a baby’s lungs will not develop.
Some such patients choose to keep their pregnancies and risk their own health to be able to hold their babies for the few moments they are alive. Others choose to terminate. Zahedi helps them either way. It is a personal choice, she believes, and not one she or anyone else should make for them.
Then Zahedi discovered a dangerous complication: the woman’s placenta was growing into her C-section scar and her uterus. It could cause severe infection and bleeding, and she’d likely lose her uterus.
The patient, a woman of strong faith, agonized over the choice, and Zahedi lived through that grief and despair alongside her. The patient didn’t want to risk leaving her two living children motherless and decided to terminate.
Zahedi didn’t sleep the night before the procedure. She was worried for her patient, and for herself.
“We all just risked our lives for two years in a pandemic. I’m not really excited about now risking my liberty and freedom in order to take care of patients here when it has become very clear I am no longer welcome,” she said, “even though I know people need me.”
She wants to stay. She loves her practice and her patients, she told Akers.
“But I just don’t know.”
Akers sighed as they hung up, and shook her head. She gets calls like this from doctors all the time now.
She hopes she’s wrong and making a big deal out of nothing. Maybe none of them will be prosecuted; maybe the intent was only to shut down abortion clinics. If a year from now, all is well, she’ll happily fold her new nonprofit and go back to defending people charged with other crimes.
“But I just keep coming back to asking, if it was really just about shutting down clinics, why not write a law that criminalized elective abortions?” she said. “If this was all just a scare tactic, well played, mission accomplished, we’re all scared. And these are situations where moments matter.”
That evening, back in Nashville, Dr. Nancy Lipsitz was working an emergency shift.
Appearing that afternoon with Akers, the gynecologist had described the fear she’s seen in her patients. One is planning to move out of state. Another asked her: If things go bad, will you have to let me die?
She feels like practicing medicine has become a minefield of risk. She struggled to find a word to describe the thought of facing criminal charges for treating patients. It was “mind-bending,” she said.
That very night, a pregnant woman came into the emergency room in extraordinary pain, with signs of internal bleeding. Lipsitz found that she had a ruptured ectopic pregnancy.
This was the very mind-bending scenario she had described from the stage just hours before, one that might have pitted the vagaries of a statute against a patient’s welfare.
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