My brother was murderd when I was 10. He was ten years older than me and my hero. He was shot to death while fending off men with clubs that were trying to hurt his best friend. His friend lived with a bullet wound to his chest. While shot his friend ran 3 blocks to a pay phone to call for help. My brother was shot in the back while trying to make it to the vehicle to get away. He died in the drivers seat. This happend 16 years ago and I still haven't healed it affects my life in ways I don't even realize. This is the first time I have ever shared my story with a stranger. I insisted on facing his killer when I was 10 in the court room. I read to the jury what exactly was taken from our family. The defense attorney tried to imply that my brother was racist. That isn't possible the man who he died protecting was his best friend and happens to be African American. For a long time I was angry for know reason. Thankfully I have put that behind me. I suffer from addiction. Thank you for listening to my story.

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