A mother's grief: six years later, Sabrina Harris still struggles to make sense of the murder of her 11-year-old daughter Ryan.

Sabrina Harris sifts through an unpacked plastic storage bin in the nearly vacant living room of her new South Side apartment. The Englewood native spent the last 15 years raising a family in the suburbs, and just moved back to the city recently.

She reaches into the container and pulls out a blue pair of size-4 Jordans and a hot pink sweater with the word "Nautica" stretched across the chest in blue block lettering.

They were her daughter Ryan's favorites. Somehow, the 11-year-old thought they'd really make her fly on the basketball court.

Harris, 34, has had trouble parting with such clothes--some of which still carry the little girl's scent--since Ryan was brutally raped and left for dead in a weedy Englewood lot six years ago.

Floyd Durr, a convicted sex offender, was indicted for the crime--months after a media frenzy was created when prosecutors first fingered a pair of 7- and 8-year-olds and eventually dropped their charges. Durr's trial is expected to start in January.

For Harris, life continues to be a struggle. She's evaded death twice--in 1998 when she survived congestive heart disorder and again this year when her motorcycle skidded on a rain-slicked road into the path of an oncoming truck.

She went on welfare shortly before Ryan's death and has struggled to keep a job since. She's hopped from clerical positions to bookkeeping to accounting to cashiering to management. But she's had nothing steady since July, except for volunteering to play with the kids at the Peace Community Center at 64th and Peoria in Englewood. The spare time has given way to intense anger toward the man who allegedly killed Ryan and guilt over what she might have done to prevent it.

Harris separated from her husband of six years, Billye, the father of all seven of her children, two months before Ryan's murder. Both parents now wonder if Ryan would be alive had they stayed together, Harris said.

She also once believed that Ryan would still be alive had Harris not taught the girl to fight off an attacker.

At the time of the murder, Harris was living in south suburban Lynwood. She had agreed to let Ryan and her six siblings stay with family friend Diane Arrington in Englewood for the week.

Harris' eldest child, Ryan had finished her daily chores first on July 27, 1998, freeing her to go outside and ride her bike ahead of her siblings. It was the last time she was seen alive by family and friends.

The next afternoon, Ryan was found dead in a lot behind a building at 6636 S. Parnell Ave. Her body was naked from the waist down, her underwear was torn and shoved inside her mouth, weeds were stuffed into her nose, and her skull was fractured, presumably by a bloody brick found nearby.

For Harris, not much has removed the sting of such images or the reality that her child will never wear her favorite shoes or sweater again. Harris writes letters to Ryan, keeps her belongings and says the only way to stay sane is to make believe that Ryan is still alive. She's not dead, Harris says, just away at school.

How have you managed to cope with what's happened?

I still haven't. That's just it. Don't think I'm crazy or anything like that. I put it like she's away at school. I was pregnant when she got killed. So my son Bryan--I named him after her. He one time just walked off to his godmother's house. He was 5 years old. I whupped him, but I didn't want to. I said, 'Do you know what happened to your sister?' He was like, 'Yeah.' I said 'What?' He said, 'She got killed, and somebody raped her.'

I've never told him that. So, when he said it, it kind of shocked me because I thought he was going to say, 'My sister got killed.' I said, 'Who told you that?' He said, 'I just know.' I said, 'You know I'm going to have to whup you, right? I don't really want to whup you, but you can't do that because what happened to her, they do that to little boys, too.'

What memory of Ryan do you replay most in your mind?

She took the last of our bread to do her science project. I called her, 'Ryan, fix me a sandwich.' She's like, 'We ain't got no bread.' I'm like, 'We ain't got no bread? We just had some bread.' She's like, 'I used that for my project.' I'm like, 'Your project? Girl, we got to eat around here.'

But she put the last of the bread, some in the light, some in the dark, to see what would mold the fastest. It was like no matter what she needed to get her work done, she did it.

Have you been following Floyd Durr's case in court? Are you planning to attend the upcoming trial?

I haven't missed a court date. I've been going to court since Oct. 15, 1998. I had a 9-pound son Oct. 13. I signed myself out of the hospital so that I could be at court on that date. From Oct. 15, the 23rd and every month after, I've been at [the criminal courthouse at] 26th and California.

Have you had any correspondence with Floyd Durr?

No, but I did run into him at the courtroom one time. I walked in the door, and the judge was like, 'Excuse me, how can I help you?' I said, 'My name is Sabrina Harris. Is this Floyd Durr?'

And that's when I recognized the state's attorney. She said, 'Judge, this is the mother of Ryan Harris.'

He said, 'Ma'am, can you step out without making a scene?' I said, 'This is Floyd Durr. This man killed my daughter. What do you mean, "Step out without making a scene?" He committed a crime.'

Floyd Durr turned his head to look my way. I went to swing at him, and so many people had grabbed me that now I'm swinging on whoever touches me.

If you were the judge, what would be your decision regarding Floyd Durr?

He would've been dead a long time ago, honestly. My daughter's been gone six years from riding her bike outside playing one day.

Because of the way she died, I don't feel that he should have no type of mercy. Like when they said he got sick and they sent him to the hospital--let him suffer. My daughter suffered, so why should he get treatment? Why should he get help? My daughter didn't have help. She didn't have a chance for nobody to help her.

What is your opinion now of the criminal justice system?

It's so messed up. But I honestly see now why there are a lot of people in jail for crimes they didn't commit.

If [the police] had did their jobs when the crime lab was calling them, if they had done their jobs and not said that their caseloads were full, my daughter wouldn't be a victim.

She wouldn't be a victim if the whole month before my daughter was murdered, when the state crime lab people are calling you all telling you they have the DNA of the person who's doing these rapes in the Englewood community, they got him off the street.

Just because these little girls were being raped, [they were acting] like it didn't mean anything. But, now that it escalated to a murder, now you want to make it a top priority case.

But now you want to sit here and grab anybody for it. You don't do that.

How do you hope this tragedy helps someone else?

I still don't think kids understand the dangers they face, because my children still don't.

My own children--I dreaded them to turn 11 because I thought something was going to happen. So now that they're 14 and 15, I don't think they still think it could happen.

The only awareness that the kids have is what I tell them. But not just my children--but all kids in general. I really think they think that they're untouchable. Kids just don't get it in general. And it's up to the parents.

But, when I get myself situated, I want to do something in the community to give them something to do. I want to do something with kids to give them an after-school thing so they don't have to be riding bikes after school. Not saying that they shouldn't be able to, but give them something to keep them busy, keep them doing something, keep them active, and it will brighten their horizons.