He adopted nine little girls the world had forgotten.
They became his reason to keep breathing.
When Anne slipped away in 1979, silence swallowed their home.
No giggles. No tiny feet racing down the hall.

Only a shattered man clutching her pillow, tears falling as her final whisper echoed:
“Don’t let love die with me… Give it somewhere to go.”
Weeks later, under merciless rain, he stepped into St. Mary’s Orphanage.
In the dim corridor, nine Black sisters clung together — bound not by blood, but by abandonment.
The world said they’d be torn apart.
Richard’s voice broke the quiet:
“They stay together. I’ll take them ALL.”

They called him crazy.
A white man daring to raise nine Black daughters?
Whispers chased him like shadows.
But he turned pain into purpose, grief into unbreakable love.
And those girls? They became his heartbeat… his miracle.