One day sometime around March I was on the bus on my way home. I got a call from my cousin. “Have you watched the news?”
I said, “Um, no.”
She said, “Your father got killed.”
Luckily I was one stop away from home. I ran home, banging on the door, crying.
My mom said, “What’s wrong?”
I couldn’t talk. I was speechless.
She followed me to my room screaming, “What’s wrong?”
I was muffling, stuttering, saying, “My, my dad got killed.”
She broke down.
My mind was everywhere. I didn’t know what to do or what to say.
It was basically a cold case. They found his body and it was decomposed and they never found out what happened or who did it.