
In late 1993, after a paternity test ended a relationship that had started in the eighth grade, twenty-two-year-old Robert James Ritchie was left in suburban Detroit raising his six-month-old son alone.
Since age fourteen, the aspiring rapper and rocker performing as Kid Rock had been in an on-and-off romance with classmate Kelley South Russell. By his early twenties, Ritchie was working to help raise three children inside their Michigan home, including an older child and two born during their years together. After the arrival of Robert James Ritchie Jr. on June 14, 1993, and a subsequent baby girl, mounting doubts led Ritchie to request DNA testing. The lab results confirmed that the infant girl had been fathered by another man and that only Bobby Jr.—whom Ritchie nicknamed “June Bug” after his June birth—was his biological child.
Following the breakup, Russell left with the other two children and placed six-month-old Bobby Jr. on Ritchie’s front steps. Having recently been dropped by Jive Records and estranged from his wealthy father in Romeo, Michigan, Ritchie took the baby inside, moved in with friend and studio engineer Bob Ebeling to split rent, and petitioned the Macomb County Circuit Court in 1994 until he secured sole legal and physical custody.
To pay for formula, diapers, and court costs, Ritchie scrubbed floors and cleaned bathrooms at Ebeling’s White Room Studios in downtown Detroit in exchange for recording time while selling monthly bootleg cassettes out of the trunk of his car. Between mixing tracks for local bands, he fed a bottle to Bobby Jr. in the control room and waited until the baby fell asleep in a folding crib before stepping to the vocal booth.
Even after Ritchie kept primary custody, friction between the parents continued through the courts for over a decade. In 1995, a heated confrontation at Ritchie’s home ended with Russell scratching his face with a kitchen fork. Three years later, when Ritchie included the autobiographical track “Black Chick, White Guy” on his August 1998 breakthrough album, Devil Without a Cause—detailing the paternity discovery and his years raising Bobby Jr.—Russell sued him for defamation and emotional distress, claiming the lyrics publicly humiliated her as the album climbed toward eleven million sales.
As Ritchie’s touring schedule expanded into arenas across the country, he structured his life around keeping his son anchored in Clarkston, Michigan. By 2000, a court order granted Russell limited visitation every other Wednesday evening and every other weekend while ordering her to pay twenty-five dollars a week in child support.
The legal tug-of-war resurfaced in Macomb County Family Court in 2006 and 2007 when Bobby Jr. was thirteen. Represented by attorney Kathy Vogt, Ritchie returned to court after disputes over the teenager’s visitation schedule and unpaid support. While Russell’s attorneys petitioned for joint custody and three thousand dollars a month in financial assistance, arguing that her inability to afford heat or telephone service kept her from hosting her son, Vogt pointed out in court filings that Russell had failed to pay the symbolic twenty-five-dollar weekly support and sought to turn the boy into an income stream.
Court-appointed referee recommendations and judicial rulings kept sole physical custody with Ritchie in Clarkston, where he woke up at six on weekday mornings to fix breakfast, drove on school field trips, and coached youth basketball.
Growing up inside that stable Michigan routine, Bobby Jr. graduated from Clarkston High School in 2011 and headed south to Nashville to study at Belmont University, earning his bachelor’s degree in music business in May 2015. In 2014, at age twenty-one, he welcomed a daughter named Skye, making his father a grandfather at forty-three, and later married his high school sweetheart, Marisa Trovato.
On January 17, 2025, when Ritchie turned fifty-four, thirty-one-year-old Bobby Jr. shared a photograph of the two of them together on the water alongside a birthday note thanking the father who had raised him from infancy. Ritchie replied in kind, signing off to the six-month-old boy he had once carried into a Detroit recording studio with the same childhood name: “Love you June Bug”.