I’m out and about with my dad at nighttime in this highly crowded place – most likely Florida and during Mardi-gras. People have drinks in hand and as they walk down the street, and a few were a little too obnoxious. We make our way to the car whens some heavy African american dude tries to get into a rumble with my dad. My dad tries to get him to back off, but then they exchange words and a gun is produced from the fat guy who picked a fight. Before he can fire in his inebriated state, the gun falls to the pavement and my dad scrambles for the gun. I try to stop them from a fight but getting the gun out of my dad’s hand so no one would get hurt, and I dont know how it happened, but as I was trying to take the gun from my dad the gun fired and it shot and killed him on the spot. I wept bitterly over my father. I really dont know how it happened, but I blamed myself – even though I didn’t pull the trigger. He was pronounced dead on the scene.
I wasn’t arrested right away, but a detective did take me to some school. He was also heavy set, white, dark hair, brown eyes. “Remember this?” he asked. “No” I replied, what is this place – and why are we here? It was a classroom with a single classroom desk in the middle of the room and no chairs. It was in some massive business building on about the 17th-23rd floor. It had the traditional 90’s school floors – white cut out tiles that were made of some kinda linoleum or plastic. No matter how much you mopped it, there was always dirt. Anyway, the detective starts to ask me questions about the room and if I remember it. I said I have no memory of the room itself, but I have a bad feeling about this place that I can’t put my finger on. Then he told me this is where I murdered a little boy when I was a child. I was dumb-struck and couldn’t believe it. Then we went through the details of how it happened. It was also an accident, but they let me off because I was a child, and I genuinely had no clue what I was doing – I was too small. As he tells me the details my mind starts to unfold as I envision what he said and was made to believe it. “Where did he lay?” I asked the detective. He pointed to the floor. I broke down over that spot and wept bitterly. First I killed my dad, and now I’m forced to remember killing this little boy who was no more than 4 or 5 when I was his age. The gun back then belonged to the teacher and he irresponsibly left it out, so he was charged instead.
Never the less, people start going into the room when another gentleman shows up; he was a light-skinned African american, about 35, handsome – dressed in a wal-mart blue button-up shirt and jeans. Both of us were under the impression he needed to speak to the detective, but he was there to speak to me. I step aside for them to talk and he approaches me for a chat. He asked me about the details as to what happened with my dad, and I explain them. I bitterly wept again having to try to relive the trauma. When all was said and done I told him I knew what happened was an accident, but legally I’m held guilty and plan to plead “guilty – no contest.” Someone had to pay for what happened and I felt too grief ridden to try to blame the owner of the gun or seek a lawyer.
I leave outside and am transported back to the scene of my fathers murder; it’s night time again. I look for dads car to take me home. I get inside and find the keys. Out of nowhere, dad shows up in the front passenger seat from beyond the grave. He tells me he forgives me and that Nana and pop are gonna take it really hard, and there’s a will with money I need to look for for Jamie and myself. I drive back to his apartment in Sarasota and walk inside to look for Jamie first and see if he knew what had happened. As I step into his room his head hangs low and he refuses to look at me. The blinds are shut behind him, but the light from the morning sun invades the darkness, creating a blanket of shadow that envelops my brother. I try to tell him it was an accident and that I’m eternally sorry for what has happened, but he looked so lost. I weep as hard as I can on the floor again. Dad steps in and tries to say something, but only I can hear him. I translate what he said back to jamie, but he’s still too angry and upset to listen.
I wake up with tears in my eyes and a runny nose.