PART 7-I was scrubbing a courthouse floor when I received a call informing me that the county sheriff had shot my seventeen-year-old son through both kneecaps, and that the man had smiled as he screamed.
I sat two chairs away. Not too close. Not far enough to feel absent. For several minutes, none of us spoke. Then Noah glanced at my old courthouse jacket. “You’re …
PART 7-I was scrubbing a courthouse floor when I received a call informing me that the county sheriff had shot my seventeen-year-old son through both kneecaps, and that the man had smiled as he screamed. Read More