ABSTRACT
My father was murdered while I was in my Houston school. I was sitting quietly at my desk working on a class assignment when my teacher called out my name. She informed me that I needed to go home immediately. As I walked the three short blocks to my house, I thought about how good it felt to be outside instead of in that 3rd-grade classroom. I was about halfway home when a weird feeling came over me. Why did I have to go home? Who had sent for me? What was so important that I had to miss school? My parents always said that unless we were dying, we had to go to school. Education was everything. So why was I sent home? Had something happened? I started to worry.
