Army Specialist Jason C. Ford was killed in Iraq after his convoy encountered a roadside bomb in March 2004. (Photo courtesy of U.S. Army)

By Danny Conklin
Maryland Newsline
Thursday, April 28, 2005

Friend Tiera Jarman remembers when Ford told his nephew, Anthony Smith-McRae, to go pick out any birthday present he wanted for himself.

"He asked me to go to the mall so Anthony could pick out whatever he wants, and he picked out this sweat suit," Jarman recalled. Ford didn't have much, but he was willing to give away what he had to those dear to him, she said.  

Family members all seem to remember the 21-year-old former church choir drummer as a selfless individual.

Ford, whose parents divorced when he was in grade school, spent much of his childhood growing up in the District of Columbia with his mother. The youngest of Newell’s five children, Ford had a large, extended family that he spent time with.

He attended Shaw Junior High School in the District, where he indulged his passion for music. Playing the snare drum in the school’s marching band, Ford found something he truly loved.

"When he played…he was in another world," sister Smith-McRae recalled.
 
Every Sunday he played drums for the choir at Paramount Baptist Church. Jarman said his playing made everyone exclaim, "Hallelujah!"

Ford moved from Washington, D.C., in 2000, to live with Smith-McRae’s family in Bowie. The decision was made in hopes of giving Ford better opportunities in life, his mom and sister said.

In Bowie, Smith-McRae remembers the local kids looking up to Ford as an "older brother." He organized pick-up sports games and neighborhood clean-ups. 

He attended Bowie High School through his junior year, but withdrew before graduation. Newell said he had trouble adjusting to the new school environment.

"He was never accustomed to a 'now' crowd; he was a homebody," Newell said.

Jason Ford at the Place de la Concorde in Paris, France, with fellow soldiers in November 2002. (Photo courtesy of Yolonda Smith-McRae.)

Instead, Ford received his General Equivalency Diploma and enrolled in the U.S. Job Corps. He started thinking about a career in the military.

After talking to his friend Jarman, who is currently stationed in Iraq, Ford decided that the military was right for him. He made the decision to enroll at the end of 2000, but didn’t tell his family, knowing they would worry, his mother and others said.

"I was upset because he didn’t tell me, because I would have tried to prevent it," Newell said. 

In the end, Ford saw the military as a springboard to a career in law enforcement.

"His dad is a retired D.C. police officer, his brother is a Prince George’s County police officer, so he sort of had it in his blood," Smith-McRae said.

Newell said Ford’s goal was to eventually become a military police officer.

Off to War

Jason Ford (standing) with Sgt. Shawn Jackson. Jackson would accompany Ford's body back to the United States. Ford was buried at Arlington National Cemetery. (Photo courtesy of Yolonda Smith-McRae)

Jarman remembers the night before Ford was headed to boot camp, in February 2002.

"He was playing Psalm 13 [on his stereo] when he found out he was leaving. He was just sad, and he said, ‘I want to thank you for being there for me, for being my angel,' " Jarman recalled.

When Ford came back from Fort Benning, Ga., in July 2002, a change was noticeable.

"I could tell by the discipline. He would get up and run every day. His whole demeanor, his whole persona was different," Smith-McRae said. "He was just like, I’m so mature. You could look at him and tell he was more confident." 

"He was very intense," Jarman recalled.

In August 2002, Ford was given his orders and placed in the 1st Battalion, 18th Infantry Regiment based in Schweinfurt, Germany.

In late 2003 news came that he would be going to Tikrit, Iraq, Smith-McRae said. Ford expressed his reservations on his personal Web site by writing, “I will be going to war soon with one of the worst countries in the world. I will be on the front line watching any and everything a person could only have nightmares about and I will be facing it in first person view. Do I have a choice? No, and I don't know if I will come back."

On Feb. 12, 2004, he arrived in Iraq, and friends who talked to him could sense his uneasiness.

"I could sense he was very nervous, very scared," Jarman said, after talking to him by telephone during his first weeks there. "He was always telling me about having [his] ducks in a row."

On March 13, 2004, Ford’s convoy came under attack while on patrol outside Tikrit, when an improvised explosive device detonated, killing him and another soldier, according to Army media relations. He sustained internal injuries from shrapnel, Smith-McRae said the family was told.

The News

A car with two uniformed officers pulled up in front of his mother’s house around 10 a.m. on March 13, 2004, awaking her from a nap. "I knew he wasn’t coming back," Newell said.

Newell called Ford’s father, Joseph Ford, to tell him the news before the officers got to his house. Then she called Smith-McRae. Newell reached her daughter’s husband, who then called Smith-McRae on her cell phone.

"I asked what’s wrong with my mother?," Smith-McRae recalled. "[He said] nothing. What’s wrong with my grandmother? [He said] nothing.

"[He said] it’s Jason, and I almost swerved off the road," she said. "I was screaming and crying."

Ford’s funeral was held March 23, 2004, at Paramount Baptist Church. The place where he spent his childhood making people take notice of him for his musical ability was now honoring him as a hero.

Trying to Move On

Newell has been doing what she can to keep herself busy for the last year.

She’s thrown herself into her work as an administrative assistant at Webb Elementary School in the District. She said the children help her get through the day.

Newell, who still wears her son’s dog tags from Iraq, knows that she hasn’t dealt with his death.

"I don’t want to deal with it. Talking about his life makes me happy," said Newell. "He’s sort of the missing piece of the puzzle, and with a family as tight as ours, this has hit us hard."

Francine Harley, Ford’s other sister, said she writes about her brother often for the classes she’s enrolled in at the University of the District of Columbia because it helps her keep his memory alive.

"He lived for every moment," said Harley. "It didn’t matter who you were, he would come right up and talk to you."

Newell said she uses Ford’s life as an example for the kids she helps at Webb Elementary.

"Take advantage of the time you have," Newell said. "You have to help people and make use of your life."

Copyright © 2005 University of Maryland Philip Merrill College of Journalism