He Burned His Wife’s SUV After She Tried to Leave Him
A man accused of killing his own wife who disappeared in mid-July is being held in jail accused of her death. “This man chose to literally murder this woman and then try to act like a father,” a family member said. “I was looking at her baby last night. I don’t understand how you could kill your baby’s mother when she also has three more. It’s like you’re killing them.”
“It felt like I died when I heard she died,” said an eleven-year-old boy—the oldest son of Ammani Roberson. “It felt like my body left my soul.”
That boy was eleven years old. Behind him, three more brothers: nine, three, and a baby barely one month old. That baby will never remember his mother. And the man accused of taking her—her husband, Darnell Anderson—was twenty-two years old. Ammani was twenty-nine. She had been planning to leave.
Before we go any further, please remember to like, comment, and subscribe if you find value in these discussions. This story is not just about one night in July. It goes further back than that. And as we get into it, you will see exactly what I mean.
Ammani Saraphina Roberson was thirty years old. She lived in Conyers, Georgia, and she ran her own cleaning business called Mama Kay’s Cleaning Service. She ran it herself—residential jobs, office jobs. She posted videos showing what she could do, and she was not shy about it. She built that business while raising four boys, and she was proud of it.
She had a verse she kept close. Romans 8:18: “I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.”
Ammani’s mother was Clarine White. She lived two streets away, and they spoke every single day—sometimes more than once. That was just their normal. Ammani’s father was Ronald Acklin, and he was very much present in her life. Ammani also had a younger sister named Patience.
Darnell Anderson was Ammani’s husband. He was twenty-two years old. According to Ammani’s father, Ammani had been planning to leave. She was in the process of moving in with her mother—just two streets away—when all of this happened. They were still legally married on paper, but by July of 2023, Darnell Anderson was not living at the family home on Plantation Boulevard in Conyers. He was living at City Central Apartments on Metropolitan Parkway in Southwest Atlanta, about thirty miles away.
Ammani had confided in people close to her. But she kept most of what she was going through to herself.
Sunday, July 16th, 2023. Ammani spent that day at her mother’s home with all four of her boys. They had dinner together. Her two older sons—the nine-year-old and the eleven-year-old—were going to spend the night at their grandmother’s house, while her two youngest—the three-year-old and the newborn—were going home with Ammani.
At around 5:30 that evening, Ammani left her mother’s house with her two youngest boys. She was heading home, two streets away.
And she was never seen alive again.
The next morning, Clarine tried to reach her daughter. No answer. She called again. Still nothing. These two talked every day. That silence was not normal. She drove two streets to Ammani’s home. She let herself in and found the house empty. Ammani was not there. Neither were the kids. But her purse was there.
Nobody leaves without their purse.
The next day, Clarine went to the Rockdale County Sheriff’s Office. She reported her daughter missing. Not the children—just Ammani.
Investigators got to work. They placed a lookout, contacted family and friends, and started piecing together her last known movements. On July 19th—three days after Ammani was last seen—investigators executed a search warrant on her home. They did not say publicly what they found inside. But foul play was evident. What they collected inside that house told them enough.
The investigation moved to Atlanta and South Fulton County. Aerial searches, ground teams, cadaver dogs, flock cameras tracking license plates across metro Atlanta, and cell phone records. They used everything they had. Multiple agencies were involved: the GBI, Georgia State Patrol, Atlanta Police, South Fulton Police Department. Together, they put over four hundred hours into this case.
While investigators were working, the family kept pushing from their end, too. Clarine stood in front of cameras at an August 2nd press conference and gave a description of her daughter. Twenty-nine years old, mother of four, and now she was at a podium asking anyone who would listen to help bring her daughter home.
Ronald Acklin did not stay quiet. He sat down with a reporter and went straight to it. He reached into a bag, pulled out pieces of burned metal, and held them up to the camera. Those were pieces of his daughter’s Mazda SUV, found on July 27th—eleven days after Ammani disappeared—in a remote wooded area off Camp Creek Parkway near Union Road in Southwest Atlanta, thirty miles from home.
Burned from the inside out.
“This is the radiator,” Ronald said, holding up a twisted piece of metal. “That’s off the emblem. And that’s off the emblem also. And that’s the front of the emblem right there.”
Investigators had to contact a specialist organization just to confirm the vehicle’s identity through its physical parts because the fire had destroyed so much of it. Once those identifiers were confirmed, there was no question that was Ammani’s car.
Sitting there with those burned pieces in his hands, Ronald said, “This is how we know something terrible has happened.”
He had already seen the ring camera footage from the neighbor across the street. Ammani’s mother had sent him that footage. She asked him what he thought. He made his peace with it then—that is what he said. Investigators were careful to note they could not officially confirm the nature of the sound on it. But the footage captured a loud sound. And immediately after that sound, Ammani’s white Mazda SUV backed out of the garage and sped away from the property at a high rate of speed.
That was the last time that vehicle was seen leaving that address.
According to Atlanta police, Ammani’s car was last tracked on the 200 block of Metropolitan Parkway in Southwest Atlanta on the evening of July 16th. That is the area of City Central Apartments—Darnell Anderson’s apartment. And the two youngest children—the three-year-old and the one-month-old—were found safe at that apartment with Darnell.
Darnell Anderson told police that Ammani had dropped the children off with him. But Ammani was nowhere. She never called her mother. She never came back.
Darnell Anderson never once reported his wife missing.
Investigators kept working. The searches continued. And Ronald Acklin was not sitting still either. He was out there talking to reporters, pushing the story forward himself, because he already knew. Nearly two weeks—no Ammani, and no answers.
“Folks, just hours ago, a disturbing discovery as authorities searched for a missing mother of four out of Conyers,” the news report began. “Ammani Roberson vanished just twelve days ago. And last night, her torched SUV was found thirty miles away in Atlanta.”
The reporter turned to Ronald. “This does not sound good at all.”
“No,” Ronald said, holding up the burned emblem of his daughter’s car. “Not at all. In fact, I believe my daughter has been killed.”
He played the ring camera footage for the reporter. “Listen,” Ronald said. “I heard the powder there.”
The video was grainy. But the sound was unmistakable to a father who had already buried two children before Ammani. “That was a gunshot from a distance,” he said. Following the loud noise, Ronald said, Ammani’s SUV was seen in the grainy video backing out of the garage and speeding off. The last time it was seen—until the Rockdale County Sheriff’s Office said it showed up thirty miles away at City Central Apartments.
But Ronald did not believe she was in it. “Her car was there,” he said. “That’s it.”
He told the reporter that the father of Ammani’s newborn lived at those apartments. As of that night, it remained a missing person’s case. Anyone with information was asked to call the Rockdale County Sheriff’s Office.
It was August 3rd when one of the cadaver dog teams got a hit.
A cadaver dog alerted at a specific location in South Fulton County—not far from where the burned car had been found. Investigators processed the area, and they found a body. The body matched Ammani’s description: the build, the complexion, the tattoo sleeve on her left arm. Once investigators confirmed those details against photos from the family, there was no question.
They had found Ammani.
The next morning, August 4th, Sheriff Eric Levett addressed the public. “She had been found approximately two miles from where her car was discovered, in a wooded area in South Fulton County.”
The sheriff’s office did not wait. That same night, they moved on Darnell Anderson. Sheriff Levett activated his SWAT team. They moved to City Central Apartments on Metropolitan Parkway in Southwest Atlanta. Darnell Anderson was there. And after a brief standoff, he was taken into custody.
Felony murder. Malice murder. Aggravated assault. Possession of a firearm during the commission of a felony.
Those children were in that apartment when the SWAT team showed up. The sheriff’s office took them that night and released them to their grandmother. That is how Clarine got them back—not through a quiet handoff, but through a SWAT arrest at their father’s apartment.
The next morning, the sheriff spoke. “You know, this is a domestic. It’s a husband and wife. We have had about four to five murders this year, and every last one of them has been domestic family violence related. If there is anyone out here that is involved in a toxic relationship—whether you are receiving mental abuse, verbal abuse, or physical abuse—it is not worth keeping quiet. We need for you to step out and say something so we can end such tragedies like this, especially tragedies that involve children. These are four kids now without a mother and unfortunately now without a father. The grandparents are now stuck to raise these children. These children are going to need a lot of counseling. They are going to need a lot of support.”
Four kids without a mother. And now without a father, too.
Five days after Darnell Anderson was taken into custody, the Rockdale County Sheriff’s Office announced a second arrest. Sedarius Glaze, twenty-eight years old—Darnell Anderson’s brother. Glaze was charged with tampering with evidence, concealment of a dead body, and arson in the first degree.
Investigators said the two brothers drove Ammani out to that location in South Fulton County together. And Glaze was the one responsible for burning the car. That car Ronald had held up in pieces on camera. The same car tracked thirty miles away. Glaze burned it.
Two brothers. And Ammani’s family knew nothing.
Now, why had nobody mentioned the husband? Why did the public go nearly two weeks without knowing Ammani even had one? The sheriff answered that directly. They knew from day one, and staying quiet was the plan. And it worked.
After the sheriff finished speaking, Ammani’s parents stepped up to the podium.
Clarine spoke first. “Today is a very difficult day for our family, especially the mother and the father. As a mother and father, you know your kids in a very special way. And when I could not reach Ammani almost three weeks ago, I knew something was wrong. Late last night, my worst fears were confirmed, and our family is devastated. Being here today is extremely difficult for us, but I do want to thank the public who rallied around us and supported us for Ammani’s safe return. Thank you to the members of the national and local media who elevated the story. Lastly, Investigator Jones, Deputy Adams, and Sheriff Levett and the whole entire team that worked diligently to bring her home—we thank you. We ask for your continued prayers and support as we work to care for Ammani’s beautiful boys.”
She paused. “Without a mother.”
Those three words from a woman who had already buried three children before Ammani—standing at a podium and thanking investigators for finding her daughter.
Then Ronald spoke.
He said he had laid there with Royal—Ammani’s three-year-old son—and he made his daughter a promise that everyone involved would be held accountable. Three children lost, and he was still standing.
“When her mom sent me the Ring doorbell video and said, ‘What do you think?’—I made my peace with it then. I want to give thanks to Investigator Jones. At least they could not tell us. I overstand that. But she did say that is what it sounded like to me, too. So I said my goodbyes to my daughter yesterday, and I told her I promised her when I laid there with Royal that we will work with whoever we have to, and all people involved will be held accountable.”
His voice did not break. It got harder.
“This is the third child I have lost to the state of Georgia. And if you think it is going to break me—it is not. I have seen all I can see. Three of my babies gone. I want to thank Rockdale County. I did not want to give y’all a chance, and I wanted him so bad. But I trusted y’all. Thank you. Thank you. It is not the news that we wanted, but I am happy that we can hold them accountable. I just ask all—if you know anything that can help it go further, anybody else that is involved, come forth. Because what has happened to us more than once can happen to any of you. And you would want us and everybody to be involved the same way you are.”
He looked into the cameras. “I was ready for it. And I will help take care of my daughter’s kids. Thank you, Georgia.”
On the Sunday after Darnell Anderson’s arrest, he appeared before a Rockdale County judge for a bond hearing. The judge denied bond. Darnell Anderson would remain in custody until trial. And Ammani’s family was there.
Ronald stood outside that courthouse. Inside that courthouse, Ronald Acklin came face to face with Darnell Anderson. He told him he hoped he spent the rest of his life in prison. He had to be restrained.
This man had already buried two children before Ammani. He had sat in front of cameras with burned pieces of her car. He had made his peace with losing her weeks before it was confirmed. And now he was standing in a courtroom, looking at the man investigators say took her.
“We are hearing from the family members of Ammani Roberson,” the news report said. “This after her husband was denied bond today in court. He faces murder charges for her death. The family had strong words for him in court today.”
Ammani’s sister, Patience, spoke outside the courthouse. “She just wanted a family. She just wanted a happy life.”
Patience said she believed Anderson got exactly what he deserved in court. “You should not have anything. You should lose everything. Because that was just out of nowhere, for no reason. You are a sociopath to me. Like, you are insane.”
Ronald agreed. “We are going to make sure that this malicious, malevolent person—to be so young—does not ever see the streets again.”
The family told reporters that Ammani left behind an eleven-year-old, a nine-year-old, a three-year-old, and a two-month-old baby. And police were looking to make another arrest in connection with her murder.
The night after the bond hearing, Ammani’s family held a candlelight vigil at her home on Plantation Boulevard in Conyers. Family members and community members came out. They came with candles and balloons—purple and white, her favorite colors. Sheriff Eric Levett was there, too.
And that night, he told reporters that seven out of the nine homicides his department had investigated that year were domestic violence related.
Seven out of nine.
Ronald spoke at that vigil as well. Balloons in her favorite colors over the house she had been trying to leave. She never got that chance.
“It felt like I died when I heard she died,” her eleven-year-old son had said. “It felt like my body left my soul.”
That boy stood at the vigil with his grandmother, his grandfather, his brothers—and spoke those words again. A child who should have been worried about homework and video games, instead standing at a candlelight vigil for his mother.
Ronald had a message for young women and young men in relationships. “I just definitely want our men especially to really think about what you do when you act off of emotion.”
Sheriff Levett was blunt. “Life is precious. We only get one life to live. It is best to just walk away. It is best to reach out and get help and get out of toxic situations. You have four children that not only lost a mother, but they lost a father—a father to jail.”
Family members were now stepping up to raise those children: ages eleven, nine, three, and six weeks old. A fundraiser had been started to help cover the costs.
A few months after the arrests, a news crew went to check on Clarine at her home in Conyers. She had a Christmas tree up. On it, among the ornaments, was a pendant that said “Mom”—purple for domestic violence awareness, pink because it was one of Ammani’s colors.
Four boys: eleven, ten, three, and a baby who by that point was about six months old. All four of them were under Clarine’s care—growing up without their mother. And Clarine was doing all of it while grieving her own child.
Her niece had given her a book, and she shared one line from it: Grief is love.
That is Clarine. Grieving and still going every single day.
“Memories serve as a constant reminder of a loss,” the reporter said. “The first year is always the toughest. Ammani’s mom is just making sure her grandbabies never forget the amazing woman who brought them into this world.”
Clarine showed the reporter the Christmas tree. “There is one that says ‘Mom.’ A pendant among the ornaments on this tree specifically chosen to honor Ammani. I did the purple for domestic violence, and the pink is one of her most favorite colors. We have the doves, and then we had this little saying up here because of her just having a baby.”
Clarine and her husband were now raising four of their fifteen grandchildren. “We are here to represent Ammani and to make sure the children are in a safe place,” she said. “The more her memory is here, the better we will all feel.”
She offered advice to others still trapped in similar situations. “Always remember—and it is a book from my niece—grief is love. So actually, in loving that person, you can grieve as well.”
As for Ammani’s case, it could be heading to trial as early as 2024. Darnell Anderson was charged with her murder. His brother was also arrested and facing charges in this case. An online fundraising campaign was set up for the boys to help with everything they would need growing up.
And people showed up.
Those four boys will know their mother through the people still standing. Their grandmother. Their grandfather. Their aunt. The oldest already found his words at eleven years old.
Ammani Saraphina Roberson was twenty-nine years old. She had four sons, her own business, a mother who lived two streets away and talked to her every single day, a Bible verse she kept close, and plans to leave.
By the end of 2023, Darnell Anderson was still in custody, awaiting trial. Clarine said she had been told the case could go to trial as early as 2024. Sedarius Glaze was also still facing charges. As of this recording, both men are still charged. No verdict has been confirmed publicly, and this family is still waiting.
This story did not stay in Rockdale County. It opened up a conversation a lot of people were already having—about Black women, about dangerous relationships, about which missing person’s cases make the news and which ones quietly disappear. This case hit people hard. And not just in Rockdale County. People across the country were talking about what happens to Black women in these situations and why cases like this one have to fight for the coverage they deserve.
Walk away. Simple as that. Ammani had made her decision. She was two streets away from where she needed to be.
Clarine raising four boys. A grandfather on his third loss. And an eleven-year-old left to figure it out.
Ammani Roberson. Twenty-nine years old.
Rest in peace, Ammani.
I hope these stories help you recognize warning signs and encourage you to seek help or offer support before it is too late. If you or someone you know is in a relationship that feels unsafe—if the public devotion does not match the private reality, if you are making excuses for someone who makes you afraid—please hear what Ronald Acklin said. Please hear what Sheriff Levett said. Please hear what an eleven-year-old boy who lost his mother said.
It felt like I died when I heard she died. It felt like my body left my soul.
That boy is still here. His brothers are still here. Their grandmother is still here. Their grandfather—who has buried three children—is still here.
They are still standing. But they should not have to be standing alone.
Walk away. It really is okay to leave. Because if you do not leave, you could end up like Ammani. And the world has already lost too many mothers, too many daughters, too many sisters, too many favorite girls.
