Help Alisha Honor Her Murdered Son & Escape Homelessness

My name is Alisha Cross. I’m a 75-year-old mother, grandmother, breast cancer survivor, and lifelong community servant. Today, I’m asking for your help—because I am grieving, struggling, and holding on with every ounce of strength I have left.

On October 31, 2024, my beloved son, Ricktor “Ricky” Murphy, was shot and killed in Tacoma, Washington. He was only 59 years old. He was shot seven times in the back by an 18-year-old male, senseless, and devastating. Ricky was not in a gang, he never owned a gun. JUST KEEPING IT REAL, Most people always assume that when a BLACK MAN IS MURDERED, HE IS IN SOME TYPE OF GANG. When Ricky came out of the store, the other man got out of his car, which was about 4 cars away from his. Ricky NEVER EVEN knew what happened! He was a hardworking man, a father to many children—his youngest only 5 years old. This was a tragedy that tore a hole through my soul.

But this is not the first time I’ve faced this kind of heartbreak. In 1997, I lost my younger son, Earl Ray Murphy, in a tragic car accident. He was just 29. Years later, Earl’s only son—my grandson—Drucarrio Hunter, died at only 23. That’s three generations of my family gone.

Why I Need Your Help

I have always been a woman of independence and service. I worked for Seattle Public Schools for 40 years, while raising three children. I volunteered with at-risk youth since 1987, teaching behind-the-scenes television production. I was a pioneer in grassroots media with my show The Emerald City Showcase, long before YouTube or social media. I even had the honor of interviewing Rosa Parks and appearing on six national talk shows to discuss racism and youth advocacy.

But after a lifetime of service, I find myself homeless, living in my broken-down 2004 van. I sleep near alleys, shower at the YMCA, and breathe in toxic fumes from an engine that barely runs. I suffer from chronic insomnia, heart failure, high blood pressure, sciatic pain, and the lasting effects of three separate battles with cancer.

I’ve tried to get help, but I’ve been told I “don’t qualify.” I don’t receive food stamps or low-income housing. I pay out of pocket for Medicare and medical care. And I’ve never received a business loan—despite starting a breast cancer awareness campaign, producing shows at community centers, and giving everything I had to help others.

I don’t do drugs. I don’t drink. I’ve simply fallen through the cracks—and it hurts to feel invisible.

This Is My Last Cry for Help

I’m asking for donations to help:

Fix or replace my vehicle so I don’t have to sleep in fear every night.

Secure stable housing and basic medical care.

Begin again, with peace and stability in my final years.

Please, if you’ve ever lost someone… if you’ve ever felt unseen… if you’ve ever believed in justice, kindness, and second chances—help me reclaim my life and honor my son.

Even the smallest donation is a blessing. Sharing this campaign with your network is a blessing. And if you’ve made it this far—thank you. Thank you for seeing me.

With love and humility,

Alisha Cross

“The Underdog TV Producer”