2007 was a tough year for Christie Ek. A former probationer she worked intensely with is in jail on drug charges; she was bitten by a horse where she and daughter Maddie ride; son Jonathan broke his arm during a trail bike spill; her mother’s illness, once in remission, returned; and June 10 marked 17 years since her younger brother was gunned down in their parents’ front yard. John Newberry Jr. has now been gone for as long as he once lived.
As the memory brought tears, Christie recalled the group of teenagers on mopeds that circled the neighborhood that afternoon, wreaking havoc, yelling profanities and being generally obnoxious. They passed by again just as Christie, her boyfriend and brother headed out the door to the car. As he was retrieving some items from his car, John shouted “Shut up and get out of here!” The group turned, headed toward John, and someone shot him in the chest.
It didn’t take the police long to round up the group, trace the gun to the home of one and identify the shooter. The tragedy and court case consumed the family during the year before the shooter received a fifteen-year prison sentence. Christie dropped out of college, and with her parents overwhelmed by anger and grief, became the family spokesperson, advocate and investigator. Looking for understanding, she returned to college and took a criminal justice course. That whetted her appetite, and she switched from Accounting to Criminal Justice with a minor in Counseling. The change terrified her parents and family, who felt “we can’t lose another family member; they’re all violent, unpredictable, and will kill you, too.” But Christie earned a B.A. and M.S., Ed from ODU, and says a group home internship was the turning point that opened her eyes. She got to know kids with personal stories and tragedies of their own, who became individuals instead of statistics. She gave up her intention to “fix the system,” convinced instead that working directly with juveniles would be the most direct and best way to prevent future tragedies.
With seven years experience as a generic probation officer in the Fifth District Court Service Unit, and as Senior Probation Officer in its Isle of Wight office, Christie says she is “very fulfilled, love my job and love the kids.” Though her “Flower Child” hairstyle, dimples and lilting voice fit the stereotype of a kindergarten teacher, Christie fully accepts her public safety responsibilities toward those who “don’t get it.” She is best known, however, for persevering, advocating for and connecting with difficult kids. And for those reminiscent of the 16-year old who killed her brother, she tries to find the “something we can tap into” that will turn them around. And when that happens, Christie can say to herself, “This one’s for John.”
