Meet Camelia Robinson, Founder

In March of 2000, my life would change in a way I could not foresee. The fire started a little after two o'clock in the morning while my mother and brother, Kelvin, were in their rooms sleeping. My mother woke up due to yelling and commotion outside and realized the commotion was about her home! She choked through thick, black smoke to call out to Kelvin, "Kelvin?...Kelvin...Kelvin, please, please answer Mommy! Kelvin?...Kelvin, please!" She received no answer. Determined for an answer, she called out again from the top of her lungs, coughing from the deadly smoke and still, no reply.

NY1 Video Coverage on the Fire (1K, MPEG)

She started to run from her bedroom into his, but before she could get passed her door frame, the heat alone (not the fire) burned her right side -- arm and leg.

She attempted to wrap a blanket around her to shield herself against the intense heat, but it proved to be no aid. Standing by her bedroom door, crying and begging aloud for God -- a god -- any god -- to help her.

"Kelvin, please answer Mommy!" she cried, tears streaming, "please, Kelvin! The darkness brought no answer.

Suddenly, she heard a loud cracking noise. It was the wooden house structure breaking. Before she knew it, the old staircase fell apart.

Imagining her son, scared and crying, trapped in his room and being cornered, flames blazing closer and closer, she was forced to decide -- to make the most difficult decision she would ever have to make. She paused by her bedroom window and then jumped two stories.

***

Our fire started from faulty wiring in the stove -- which happened to be on recall from the manufacturer. We learned that whole disaster could have been avoided had either the landlord or my family taken just a few minutes to fill out and mail in the product's registration card.

My mother was so distraught over everything that I had to step up and take care of everything: the paperwork, the funeral and getting our lives back together. Officials asked me to identify Kelvin's body. It broke me to tell her that her only son -- her baby -- was gone.

The fire fighters, police and coroner all assured us that Kelvin didn’t suffer, that he died from smoke inhalation while sleeping. The fire fighter found his lifeless body in a sleeping position. He just simply did not wake up.

My mother was left with little but ashes from her life previous to the fire. The documents that would allow her preliminary access to aid and proof of identity were destroyed in the fire, and she literally had to start over from scratch. I ran all over the city for these items but ran into red tape everywhere.

For example, we started at the DMV to request another copy of my mother's driver's license. In order to get that, the DMV would mail it to the address listed on the ID. When a house is involved in a fire, the post office holds the mail from that address. In order to retrieve the mail, the post office needs an ID. (You can see the problem...) After all that, we submitted a change of address form with the post office and my mother got her identity back: I bought her state ID, marriage license, social security card, birth certificate, clothes -- even Kelvin's death certificate, and from there the list seems to go on and on. Nowhere was I instructed about a procedures that would have saved me countless trips back and forth from agency to agency. At the time, it was frustrating and overwhelming. The fire was hard enough, and all the red tape made recovery only more difficult.

After I helped my mother regain basic necessities, I had no money for funeral expenses and burial. I went in search for help. We went to the Red Cross and they helped me with a small allowance, but no other helpful referral. Next was the Salvation Army, where we received a clothing donation. Next we went in search for resources for funeral and burial expenses. It was through the support of our community, people coming together to give $5 here, $10 there -- one neighbor gave $100.  It was this generosity that made the expenses possible. All that was left was a grave marker. Hasbro, the toy distributor that held the rights to Kelvin's favorite Pokémon character, had engraved "Pikachu" on the headstone in light of his loyal collection of Pokémon artifacts.

I never entertained the thought that Kelvin would see only 10 years. Who would think of that?  He was my baby brother and my only sibling.

In retrospect, the barriers that my mother and I faced in our recovery were just plain ridiculous.  Being the victim of a tragedy is hard enough! Recognizing a lack in the system eventually became an opportunity to make things better. Community services could be easier to locate -- and I could help make that happen. My experience gave birth to the Kelvin Robinson Foundation. Here, families can find the assistance they need to overcome tragedies caused by household fire, and my brother can live on.

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