“Mr. Augie they killed him!” the voice on the phone nearly shouted. It was “Bill” and he was crying. His best friend, a young man I had mentored, “Charlie,” had been murdered. He was gunned down by rivals. I always knew that this was a possibility, but I had never prepared for the moment. It was here and it left me feeling desperate, helpless .
The death of a teen, especially to violence, will never make sense to the rational mind. The next few days were a blur as I tried to go on with my life through my tears and darkness. He was 16 years old. That’s all. He had not started to live yet. All the memories of our conversations, our letters when he was in prison and our outings flooded my thoughts.
Even though time has moved on now and I have accepted his death, the memories of that day are still painful.
