I wrote this piece a few years ago. March 22, 2018, in fact. It is a day that will live in my memory forever. I found this piece this morning and while reading it, I thought about the state of the world today. The racial, social and political tension that is plaguing our country and her people in 2020 is far beyond anything I can remember in my lifetime. Perhaps we all need to take a step back and remember who we are and what we are made of as a country.
Nothing could have gone more wrong in those last few moments inside the school hallway. I fired. There was blood. I fired again. Lots of blood. Screaming from every direction and chaos. Just complete and utter chaos. A chaos that was created by my hand. I looked down at the white paper suit that I had been forced to put on inside the hospital, where the police had taken my clothes, shoes, backpack, weaponry and ammunition as evidence. I had been taken to the hospital after the school resource officers were forced to deploy their tasers against me when I raised the rifle and attempted to fire at them inside the school. The rifle was empty. All of the ammunition had been fired in an attempt to take the lives or hurt as many of classmates as possible. I wanted them to shoot me. I fucked up and forgot my pistol in the closet that I waited in prior to me opening fire at Cole County High School.
"They will let us all be together at the hospital, right?"
Sometimes Daddy has to change our plans. It's not his fault; he has a job that keeps him in contact with the most influential people in our city. We are often asked to dinner, and that requires that I be prepared to change evening plans at a moment's notice.
Throughout my life, I seemed to always lose when winning was a sure thing. It wasn't until my very good friend, Vince Bernardin, asked me to read a book by the name of The Dream Giver, written by Bruce Wilkinson, that I discovered why. I took the book home and started reading immediately.