He was the same age as my son, 14. He played Little League, was an alter boy, a Boy Scout. He was tall and bigger than all the kids except my son. He hung out with the younger boys and would play tricks and razz and tease. He went missing from a camping trip and we looked all over for him and finally found him sound asleep in a tent. I wrote a poem about him. http://murderer.us/DeadBoy/index.htm He was working on a couple of Merit Badges with me. We went to the TV Museum up in Hollywood where you could call up videos of old TV Programs on computers and I found him watching "Queen For A Day"
He stole money from the Little League and spent it buying presents for his friends. When he got caught, his parents and a couple of other adults scared the shit out of him and he got his father's gun and shot his brains out.
It wasn't fun. I had to tell my son. We had a shrink come to talk to the Troop. The whole world felt horrible. The funeral in the Catholic Church was the worst part of it. We failed him. We failed his family.
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