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The Sniper


Chapter One

The splashing of frightened frogs, jumping into the small creek, before the sound of each soft footstep,
that scared them off the weedy bank, was the only thing that broke the silence, as Holly walked by the
flowing creek, the laughter that had bounced off the lush green hills, that rolled through the park, was
behind her now, she had slipped away from Robert, and her friends, for a quite adventure of her own.

After all Holly had a lot to think about, Robert was going to ask her to marry him, of that she was sure,
the pressure that was put on her, was hers and hers alone, Robert was a good and kind man, but at
twenty two she didn’t know if she was ready, she was yet working on her teaching degree.

She thought that she loved him, but twenty two is so young, she knew of others that had made that
leap, and she was tempted, each night she was in Roberts arms, or curled beside him, she wanted him
forever, but she was scared.


The cross hairs played over each young suntanned body, at the park, two young girls riding their bike’s
along the cement path, laughing, talking, their breasts and butts swaying with each push of the pedals.

To his left two lovers laying cuddled on a blanket, to his right, six young girls playing sand volleyball,
past them a young woman sitting on a beach chair reading a book, beside her a young girl of eleven or
twelve looking right at him.

It startled him even knowing she was two hundred yards away, she looked like she saw him, but he
knew she couldn’t, it still felt freaky, his nerves were making him jumpy, this will be his first time, and
he knew he wasn’t going to kill someone so young, his scope passed over her, and he saw a young
dark haired girl entering into the trees, by herself, and he was curious, as he followed her with his


Holly saw a large, very old cottonwood leaning over the bank, its branches shaded the ground around it
with dappled colors of green and  dark, the bank had long ago eroded, to bare the old trees roots, that
clung to the bank, and fed off the stream, they were thick enough for Holly to nestle in, she sat letting
the shade envelop her, she felt at ease there, watching the water flow by.


He watched her as she sat, somewhat hidden by the shade, he saw her lean back, as the roots seemed
to close around her, like a lovers arms, he was almost in awe as she sat, as though she was waiting for
him to take her, he wondered who she was, and why she sat so silently, so deep in thought.

He was enthralled with the beauty of her, knowing that she was to be his first, he had now found his
target, his voice will be heard, her killing will not be in vain, she will help get his message out to the
world, as he watched her through the scope.


Robert was looking for Holly, he was starting to get worried, he never saw her leave, and none of their
friends did either, she was nowhere to be found, and the ring felt heavy in his pocket, he loved her so
much, he felt empty when she was away from him, and he searched everywhere for her.


Holly wondered what life would be like, with out Robert, and she saddened with that thought, as tears
silently flowed out of the corner of her eyes, she didn’t know if she was crying with the happiness, of
always being with him, or of the fear that she would lose him if she said no.

She knew now, and she thought that she really knew all along, sitting there under that old tree, as if it
was the one that had made it so clear to her, she couldn’t loose him, she loved him to much for that to
happen, wiping the tears that glistened on her cheeks, she rose, to the fright of the now settled frogs,
and they once again splashed in unison, into the waters edge.


He watched as she arose, a smile flashed on her face as she started to walk towards him, the
crosshairs stayed just to the right of her left breast, he didn’t want her to suffer, after all he wasn’t a
monster, he was a man of God, and she was the only way they would listen to him.

He was on edge, never having killed anyone before, if they had only listened to him, when he sent his
demands, this would not have to be, he started praying to his God….oh master he whispered, steady my
hand, it is for you that I sacrifice this lamb, it is for you that I kneel here, in your presence and take this
life…amen, and in his nervous haste, when he pulled the trigger, he jerked it, instead of a gentle
squeeze, the bullet flew into her flat stomach ripping through her back, leaving a large exit hole.

He felt sick to his stomach, and was saddened, when he saw what he had done, remembering in his
youth, the squeal of a rabbet, that he had shot in its back, as it slid down its burrow, squealing all the
way to the bottom, never forgetting the pain that, that poor creature must have felt.

He was rooted to his spot, watching her, as she lifted her arms high over her head, screaming out,
arching backwards, and fell rolling down the slight hill.


Holly felt instant pain as the bullet slammed into her belly, tossing her hands high over her head, she
arched backwards, falling into the dry weeds and grass, feeling herself roll downward  until the cold
water stopped her.

Her belly was on fire, and she tumbled under the water, for a few feet finally catching herself, crawling
up the slight bank to lay, wet and bloody, moaning out in pain on the weedy grass.

Holding her stomach tightly Holly moved slowly to her knees, and staggered to her feet, her body bent,
she went stumbling twenty feet or so, before her movement slowed, and her knees buckled once again.

She was finding it hard to breath, the taste of blood gagged her, as it trickled out of her mouth, she
tried to rise once again but fell to her side instead, trying to scream out Roberts name, but only a
painful gasp came out of her bloody mouth.


He watched in fascination as she stumbled forward, each step a victory, until she could stumble no
more, and fell once again to her knees, he thought that he should end it then, and asked his God for
help, but his God never answered his plea, and he couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger.


The shot was loud and clear, each one that was in the park turned their heads towards the sound, and
heard the sickening scream, that followed behind it, Robert ran then, knowing that it was Holly that
screamed, he didn’t slow until he cleared the trees and saw her lying on her side.

He reached her, scooping her limp body up into his arms, running once again, now screaming himself
for help, one call after another, was placed to 911, and in just moments sirens were heard in the

Robert sat now,  holding Holly tightly in his lap, wiping the stream of blood away, as it flowed from her
mouth, she opened her eyes, seeing his face, and she wasn’t scared any longer, a slight smile played
on her lips as she tried to talk.

He said don’t talk baby, save your strength, their coming, can you hear them, hold on baby, help is
coming, oh God Holly don’t leave me, and his tears flowed, dropping on her cheeks.

Her hand left her stomach, and found his cheek, she coughed, and finally spoke, telling him I love you, I
think I always have, she looked him in the eyes gasping once more, and then she relaxed, in his arms,
her eyes never left his face, but they no longer saw.

Robert wouldn’t let them have her, holding her tightly, until they pried her away, from him, taking her
covered body away in the ambulance, the police now scoured the grounds, but he had already left,
walking undisturbed to his car his rifle broken down, and cased, in his hand, as the crowed had formed
around Robert, and Holly, no one noticing him as he drove away.


Two days latter a manifesto was received by the Morning Examiner, with a note telling them there will
be a body laying on the  street, the same as in the park for each day, the manifesto wasn’t printed on
the front page.

He waited pacing back and forth, past his living room window waiting in his blue and white pinstriped
pajamas, for the paper boy to toss the Examiner on his front stoop, when it came sailing through the air
to land with a plop, he rushed out scooping it up.

Tearing the rubber band off, dropping it to the floor, as he opened the paper, seeing nothing on the
front page, he turned each page, his anger getting more heated, as page after page flew to the floor,
finally wadding the last page and tossing in disgust, at the door, his demands disregarded.

They won’t learn he raved, his pacing increased, his face red with anger, its their fault she had to die,
his mind screamed out, they killed her, and now they want more blood, will if that’s what they want that’s
what they shall have.


The weekend was always busy when the autumn parade marched down the avenues, clowns tossing
candy to the young children crowded along the curbs, as the floats rolled by.

The young and old alike, enjoying the cooler weather, after the summers heat, a family event that was
enjoyed by all, he sat high, behind a cement railing, sighting at the crowd, picking them apart, his mind
disregarding the children, the old, the men.

He saw her, her long black hair in a ponytail, swaying and bouncing as she walked, she was with
another girl, their heads turned toward each other talking, laughing, there was something about the
way she carried herself, she was very pretty, and looked as though she was eighteen or nineteen.

His scope now trained on the girl beside her, she looked about the same age, her hair was shorter and
of a lighter brown, she was an inch taller, she also was very pretty, but the dark haired girl was his
favorite, and he trained the scope back on her.

He was calmer now not as nervous, as he had been with the first one, he had told them of his demands,
her blood would be on their hands, not of his own, maybe they would listen now, but he thought not, he
knew in the back of his mind that the killings would continue.

My God, oh Lord, of all that is holy, I your servant, and protector of your name. will do your bidding, in
this act, I am sending you two prefect souls, he whispered, as he sighted,  bringing the crosshairs
between her shoulder blades, he granted her thirty seconds more of life, giving her a present from
him, as he finished his prayer, and then slowly squeezed the trigger.


Amy took four more steps, she laughed happily, at Brandy’s comment, then her world came to an end,
as the bullet tore through her shoulder blades. Busting through her breast plate, throwing bullet
fragments into her heart, and lungs, she fell forward, skidding off the sidewalk and onto the street, as
her blood flew, splattering her friend, she was dead before she came to a stop.

Amy had just turned eighteen, and was looking forward to her senior year of high school, Brandy stood
there transfixed, her hands to her blood splattered face screaming, when the rifle spoke again,
Brandies scream came to a sudden stop, she spun forward, arms out, hands sweeping threw the air, to
land by her friend, crumpled on the sidewalk, the bullet smashing through her ribcage.

Tearing through both of her lungs, she was gurgling out her life as the stunned crowd stood there,
gapping at the bodies, and the blood, that was growing in an ever larger circle, then the stampede

Brandy, had graduated the spring before and was nineteen, she had just landed a good paying job, and
was saving to go on to collage, those dreams ending with each forced breath that left her body, her
lungs now ruined, she expired in just seconds after being shot.


The letter came two days later, at the Examiner, and landed on the desk of Chief of police Meyers, it
was filled with bazaar demands, and with religious rants, but it was promised there would be more
killings if not printed, to that end, they knew full well, that it would be so.

The room was packed with detectives, and uniformed police, the profilers were sketching a rough
profile of the sniper, the information that they had was from the manifesto, but the description was of
thousands of men that walked the streets, went to church, sat next to them in coffee houses, they
could only wait, and hope that he would be satisfied, when the paper came out tomorrow.  

The proclamation was printed the next day, and he swelled with pride, falling to his knee, Lord he
prayed, they have seen the light, as he genuflected, then paced around the room.

But his God seemed not to listen, and he was puzzled, praying louder, in the hopes that his lords voice
would be heard, as it had been heard so clearly, in the park.

But there was only silence in his mind, he fleetingly wondered if he angered his master, once again
falling to his knees, head bowed, prayers flew endlessly beseeching his God for answers.    

And then he knew that more must be done, to plicate his master, that he had only started his journey,  
as he arose, he opened the closet, picking up the case, assembling his rifle, still praying, he started to
clean it, holding it lovingly in his lap.

Knowing that his work was not done, he was the arm of vengeance, of his God, he was born to smite
those that were sinners, no proclamation, no manifesto, would ever end his work, he could see that
now, and he smiled, once again hearing so plainly the words, that told him what he must do, just as it
had been heard in the park.

Chapter Two

Day after cold day, he sat close to the alter, praying, though he prayed not for forgiveness, he would
whisper his prayers, looking up at the hanging crucifix ……oh Lord, God, I, your servant, beseech you….
tell me what more must be done, to make them change, he would whisper his mantra, time after time,
reverently …….tears would leave his eyes, he was  gaunt from lack of sleep, and lack of food.

The priest’s would see him sitting alonet, day after day, worried, trying to approach him, asking him
what was troubling him, but he would look away and not answer.

When he was at his worst, the darkness lightened, he heard angels speak, and he knew… was as if a
bright light flooded around him, the dark angel stood in all his glory, he received the message  in the
bright lightness of his mind and he was nourished.


The winter winds, had blown up the usual snowstorms, Christmas came and went, the new year, faded
from peoples mind, and the ugliness of late winter, was upon a winter weary people, also fading from
the peoples mind were the three murders, yesterdays news, life went on, the dead were buried, and

All that is, but for the people that endured the pain of their lost loved ones, and of course the police

Detective Nancy Barton, the youngest female to ever make detective, at twenty six, years of age,
working out of the 127, was working as a liaison to the F.B.I.
Who was called in to help, although this was not a federal case, two agents had been in the
metropolitan office, giving their assistance.

They had little to go on, they had the shell casings, but no fingerprints, to work with, they had no
description, and now he had vanished, so they waited, knowing he was not going to end his killing, they
suspected that he enjoyed it, he himself, may not even know that he did, but that was part of his profile.

A white man, in his late thirties, to early forties, a religious fanatic, that had probably lost someone
close to him within the last two years.

And that was about it, you can’t arrest every forty year old white man, that went to church, so they
waited, Nancy thought each morning in the two hours, she was in the office working the case, that she
was on a death watch, waiting for someone to sacrifice their life, to get them a step closer.

She knew he would be caught, they always were, or killed, committing his crime, but she mourned for
the unlucky, the helicopters swept the tops of the buildings, everyday, but that was just a crapshoot,
and they were going to be shut down within the week, due to a lack of money in the Mayors budget.


The day came that he wasn’t in church, the priest’s remembered, as it was the first warm day, of the late
winter, they watched for him, but he never again showed, in a few weeks, the winter was broken, as the
sun beat back the cold, and the geese once again filled the sky, with flights to the north.

He felt reborn now, knowing what he must do, the sun warmed his shoulders, as he bent placing
flowers on his wife, and daughters grave, he couldn’t come here before, he tried many times, but it was
to hard, the memories of their death hunted him, and he would always stop at the gate, his tears forcing
him away.

He wished he had died with them, at first cursing his God for leaving him behind, in his dreams he
remembered their laughter on the day they were killed, and it tormented him, he remembered turning
his head as Virginia, pointed squealing out with laughter look daddy, and they all laughed at the goose
waddling to the lake, her goslings trailing behind her.

Tears flowed down his cheeks, as he kneeled at the tombstone, their names chiseled together,
remember hearing the screeching of tires, the terrible sound of twisting metal, the horn, as it blasted
out its warning, until the fire burnt through the wires, no longer covering up the terrible echoes of
their screams.

Their screams reverberates in his mind, his memories of laying on the cement,  out side of the car,
hearing  them as it burned, onlookers held him back as he fought to try to save them, the other driver a
young woman,  sitting drunkenly along side her car, head held in her hands crying, and then it was
quite, just the crackling of the dying flames, they were gone, and he was alone.

He tried to forgive, as God had told him to do in his prayers, he sat in the courtroom, hearing her
sentence, the judge sternly scolded her, and she turned to look at him mouthing…..I’m so sorry.

The judge ordered her to give up her license for two years, and to also perform community service for
that length of time, he saw her smiling as she left the courthouse with her parents, while his daughters
and wife rotted in the ground.

He would awaken in a cold sweat, not understanding why he wasn’t with them, longing to hold them just
one more time, to hear their joyful squeals of laughter when he came home from work, to hold his
loving wife, and whisper what lovers whisper, in each others arms, on late winters nights.

He was not able to get out of bed, for days at a time, finally losing his job, slowly losing his mind, writing
his letters, begging them for sterner sentencing, of the drunks that drive and kill.

He fell back to his religion, his God was his comfort now, he was a hunter, in his youth, bringing his rifle
down from the attic, his letters became demands, shouting out gibberish, and now no longer read, but
dumped unopened in the trash.

He was awoke one night, by a glow that surrounded him, words were whispered and he knew what he
must do, his loved ones were taken from him, he would do the same, though his would be just, his
would be to awaken justice to his needs, he thought of the deaths of innocents.

Writing one last letter to warn them what would happen, if he was not heard,
Then he went to the park, and Holly was the first.


He left the graveyard, driving to the market tower, with his aluminum case ridding beside him, it was a
beautiful day he thought, as he drove, every once in a while he would caress the warm metal of the
case, remembering the times he drove with his family, on warm summer days.

Janet Friendly, had just settled into her new apartment in the big city, a country girl just out of a small
Midwestern collage, finding her first real job.

As the newest law clerk, of Fredrickson, Bartlett, and Burns, law firm, the tall glass encased building sat
across the street from the market tower, one of the cities land marks, on her lunch hour she would sit
on the cement bench, in front of the firms building eating her sandwich, and admiring its architecture.

Samantha Cummings, twenty three, in office 312, a law clerk herself would join her, they struck up a
casual friendship, Francis Becker who worked with Samantha, a mother of two little boys, rounded out
the threesome, they sat talking of  the warmth, and of Frances‘s two little boys.


Each metal step rang hollow, as he climbed the twenty floors to the top, not wanting to ride the
elevator, breathing heavily as he finally reached his goal, opening the outside door, squinting in the
sunlight, giving quite thanks, as he sat, his back against the notched turret, opening the silver case
bringing he masters claws, into the light.

Snapping piece after piece of the rifle in place, in seconds he was adjusting the scope, sighting
downward, at the ants milling below, across from him stood the somberness of the courthouse, to his
right the police department, and to his left a fifteen story, glass encased office building, that housed
her lawyer, who lied for her, letting her walk away with murder.

They wouldn’t listen, his god screamed in his head, they must be punished, he sighted below, to the
sidewalk, he saw just men in suits, sweeping the scope to his left,  more of the same, then he saw them,
sitting calmly on the bench, chatting happily, a smile on their faces.

And he paused, his wife’s smile, broke through the darkness of his thoughts, and the laughter of his
children, brought the tears, as he sat cradling his rifle, wiping them away. Praying…oh….blessed God,
Lord of all that is holy…..tell me what I must do….his whispering turning louder….give me a sign oh
lord, his family fading to the background.


Lester Niles, the towers watchman, had also heard the hollow clinging of the metal steps, and went to
investigate, no one should be using this stairwell, he muttered, as he panted climbing, the tower was
closed in the winter, and the steps were off limits all year long, Lester was angry, thinking he would
give the perpetrator an ear full, when he caught up with him.

He reached for the handle, opening the door and walking out onto the tarred roof, coming face to face
with a man, whose head was buried in his hands mumbling, until he heard Lester’s footsteps, Lester
saw the rifle, and turned running for the door, closing it behind him calling 911.

He lifted himself up, looking over the notched turret bringing the rifle to his shoulder, then sighting
once again, catching the three as they rose their lunch over, he started his prayer once again…..oh
Lord God……I bring you these three souls……bathe their sins away in the rays of your grace……a men.

He lay the scope on the little blond, not knowing that her name was Samantha, not knowing that she
took care of her ailing mother, only feeling his pain, his sorrow, her needs, her wants, did not matter, as
he squeezed the trigger,

Lester’s excited call, came into the 911 operator, his words were breathless and panicked, the clanging
of the steps, were loud as he ran down them, and she had a hard time trying to get him to calm down,
when he finally did yelling out there’s a sniper on the roof of  the market tower, the shot was  heard in
the background.

Detective Barton, had  just parked her car, and was climbing the steps to the station house when she
heard the first shot, motioning to two uniformed officers, that were also on the steps, turning, they
started running toward the sound, dodging around the trees that lined the along the curb.

He saw them as they ran from the trees, their side arms held high, as they were looking up, trying to
find him, he aimed at the female, and then lost her, as she ducked behind a car, he brought the scope
then to bare on the last of the three, and squeezed the trigger, swinging the rifle back to the  three

Nancy heard the awful thud as the bullet smacked into the officer that was behind them, looking  back,
seeing the bloody head wound, knowing that he was gone, she longed to stay behind the car and
safety, but she knew that couldn’t be, instead she glanced at the young officer beside her, and nodded
her head, and they were up and running again.    

Samantha had just stood up, and turned laughing at something that Janet had said, when the bullet
punched through her stomach, she spun teetering three steps, then falling, her hands grasping herself
tightly, the next shot whizzed past Janet, who had been standing at the spot that it passed through an
instance before.

Now screaming Janet and Francis ran for the cover of the two tall trees, just feet from the bench,
Samantha held herself gasping out, laying on her side, Janet and Francis now behind the two trees
watched as she withered, trying to crawl, only to curl up, bringing her knees into her body, her left hand
clutching her torn and bloody stomach, her right reaching out towards them for help.

Janet didn’t think she could, because she always knew that she wasn’t brave, and she knew if she
thought about it she wouldn’t be able to do anything, so she closed her eyes, then darted out, the few
feet between her and Samantha, grabbing her outstretched hand. Dragging her close to the shelter of
the tree, when the rifle spoke again, and she flew backward.

Francis, seeing her friends laying now together, thought of her children, and husband, then ran to the
other tree, making it to the other side and behind the tree as bark flew, from the impact of the bullet
that was aimed for her head.

The rifle was firing now, at anything that moved, and no longer at them, as people lay scattered in the
street, some dead, some wounded, some just laying there, afraid to move, the precinct was empting, as
cops flooded out to the street, firing back at the spot, where they thought he was.

Nancy with now only one officer beside her, as the other lay stretched in the middle of the street blood
pooling around him, reached the safety of the side of market tower, running around to the outside door.

There they stopped, catching their breath, knowing what was ahead of them, they looked at each other,
Nancy spoke first, saying I’m Nancy and smiled, he smiled back, nodding his head, then telling her, I
know….I’m Frank…..ok Frank she said, lets do this, and Nancy reached for the handle of the out side

Francis tearing her blouse into strips, started to administer aid to Janet and Samantha, Janet was
wounded in her shoulder, but the bullet traversed in a downward tract, tearing through her chest,
punching two holes into her right lung, entering and leaving, collapsing it, and Janet was having a very
hard time breathing.

Samantha was just holding onto life, her stomach torn by the bullet, Francis calling on her cell, to 911,
crying out for help, that couldn’t come, as the pops of the rifle, and then the return fire, and screams of
the wounded filled the air.

Nancy and the officer opened the out side door, seeing a shadowy figure of a man standing just feet
away, he had his hands up screaming I’m Lester Niles I called 911 about the sniper, they spent little time
with him, handcuffing him to the railing and started up the iron steps.

He was getting so tired, knowing the end was near, he sat facing the door, wet with sweat, thanking his
God, for what was to come, as he mumbled his prayers, seeing his wife who was holding their children,
they looked so radiant, he smiled as he heard the clanging of the steps, far below, soon he whispered, I
‘ll join you soon.

Samantha looked away, staring into the blueness of the sky, she coughed out once more, then
shuttered, and slipped away, her lifeless hand dropped to the ground, and Francis cried, the tears slid
gently off her cheeks as she crawled to Janet.

Janet, just moments latter, coughed out bloody phlegm, and then a torrent of blood followed as she lay
drowning in her own blood, her eyes pleading as her body arched, and her hand shot to her throat,
Francis held her tightly and watched as she jerked, her life slipping away, then she went still for a
moment a last gurgle left her lips, then she to relaxed, Janet now lay dead in Francis‘s arms.

Detective Barton, and the officer tried to quite their footsteps as they climbed, but no matter how much
they tried, the iron steps heralded their coming, she looked back at the officer that was with her,
mouthing are you ready, as they were now just inches from the door, she hoped she didn’t look as
scared as he did, but she knew that her own face probably mirrored his.

Her hand reaching for the handle, she said a soft prayer, as it turned and the door opened……he sat
facing the door, rifle pointing at it, not caring any longer, as the door opened, he squeezed the trigger,
working the bolt, firing as fast as he could as she dived through and rolled, firing as she did so.

He stood then, still firing at the officer inside, jerking the trigger now, and missing badly, Nancy and the
officer’s  bullets struck him, she watched as he fell backwards, sliding down to lay against the notched
tower railing, the rifle dropping from his hands.

Nancy stood looking down at him, her hand shaking, she saw that  there was a smile on his face, as he
lay dying, his arms reaching out. His mind seeing  his children running towards him, then his eyes
closed, and his arms dropped, Detective Barton knelt beside him, making sure he was gone, then
calling the forces below, giving the news that the sniper was dead.

She rose up, remembering the officer that had fought with her, he looked at her saying that was close
Nancy, and she shook her head yes, he smiled and said no, I mean real close, as he pointed out the
bullet hole in her open jacket


The city lost six dead, that morning, and three wounded, Francis Becker, her blood stained hands
covering her eyes, sobbed, standing there by herself as they carried her friends away.

Detective Barton, showed no outward signs of her feelings, as she and officer Frank Shaw, walked back
down the clanging steps, but latter when she was alone, in the darkness of her home, the tears came,
she thought of all that died, and the loathing that she had felt in the park.

She heard them, as they slapped her and Frank on their backs calling them brave, calling them hero’s,
as she walked with officer Shaw, to the debriefing, she was embarrassed, knowing in her own mind that
she was no hero, nor brave, all she knew, was that she had never been more scared, in  her life.

Nancy was told of the horrible accident, that must have set all of this into motion, knowing now, his
reason for the vengeful action that he took, she stood in the squad room, amid the clapping, just
wanting the clapping to stop, then her Captain walked her to the door, making sure that she was all
right, before sending her home.

Now as she sat in the darkness, wiping her tears away, she thought of the pain that he must have felt,
she also thought of the officer that died, while under her command, her hand shook, as her thoughts
turned to all those that were killed, not understanding how one mans pain could bring to others, so
much heartache and death.


Hennery Devon the sniper was buried with his family…..ten years later, laws were past through the
state legislature, strengthening the laws that dealt with drunk drivers, especially those that killed while

A story by Nighthawk
Please Send Nighthawk Your
(comments to Nighthawk go through moderation,
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Questions, comments, or feedback for

Comment from: Moon Shiner
Date: February 10, 2012

I always enjoy these stories of simple ideas being turned to extremes, then
followed up with radical actions.

A man justified in his lost, hurt and grieving then changing into a totally
different personality.  Letting his hate drive him to insanity.

It reads just like the 6 o'clock news.


Comment from: Othello
Date: February 10, 2012

I agree with Moon Shiner, Nighthawk. There is a feeling of hard-edged
"reporting" almost to this story...very much in keeping with the style
pioneered by Truman Capote when he wrote his intensely powerful "In Cold

It feels harrowing, and real. That is remarkable writing.


Comment from: Nighthawk
Date: February 14, 2012

Moon, and Othello

I want to thank you both, for your very kind words,

They are very much appreciated by me.

Although Othello, I would think that Mr. Capote is rapidly spinning in his
grave about now. But you made me feel very good by saying that.