January 10th, 2005


Last December, I believe it was December 3rd or 4th, the month runs together in my mind, my aunt had just been killed in a crack cocaine related domestic homicide. At the time I didn't know it was crack related, I just knew that my aunts body bag was on page one, and I had fallen asleep in the back of my dads old Grand Prix my head surrounded by candy wrappers and the lottery tickets that had been bought to entertain me and my face was covered in corduroy lines. I was leaning against my brother while the two detectives stood in the middle of the room explaining the situation. I stood there feeling my brothers arm muscles twitch as I stared at everyone in the room, noticing how my family did look alike, from the cat eyes to the bulbous nose that every male in my family has, the woman detective motioned to my brother to get me out of the room, so he sent me in to get prepare drinks. I left the door ajar so I could hear what was being said and that’s when I found out that he had been rejected from a drug clinic that afternoon because they were too crowded, so he had gone home, doubled his drug intake and then gone through with the murder. I remember swinging the fridge door back and forth absorbing it, there was a picture of me on the door, ::swish:: Mariah age 10, grade 5, purple dotted tee shirt ::swish:: pork rinds and pickles:: ::swish:: me again::
I came back into the room with drinks and later that night I went home and thought long and hard.

So that’s what changed my life
I've started to dedicate more and more of my time to asking the drug clinic he was rejected too, why they rejected him and what could have been done to prevent this. I speak to whoever will listen about the drug problem we have and what happens when it goes unchecked. I've become a little activist
and I wish I had done so sooner.