"No, Mama! I want you to stay with me!" The strong woman is screaming, refusing to go with my parents so my Love and I can look at the lineup pictures. I am so torn. I don't want to leave her, but taking her there is not an option either.
I hate that this happened!
We finally calm her and drive away, Steadfast Unfailing Love in her car seat. Leaving her is not an option and I ache that my five-month-old is along for this ride.
Why? Why did this have to happen?!
We arrive and meet the detective, a kind man who escorts us down the elevator to a gloomy room. Four walls. One door. Three chairs. Nothing fancy. It smells bad. I am instictively holding Constance tighter now. Shielding her innocence from this busted-up place. She squirms.
Lineup time.
I had imagined the Seinfeld episode where Kramer is in the lineup and nods at the guy next to him, hinting. But there is no lineup. No me behind a window--it's faces on paper. Four sheets of paper. I look them over and pick one off of each page. But nothing stands out. I tell the detective, "I really don't know. It was dark. I was so scared." He ushers me to the hallway. My Love and I, we switch places again. His turn.
Done. I go in. Little love in my arms and they begin to tell me about the boys.
Boys. Ages 14-17. Boys.
Boys that went on a weekend of terror. Carjacking, home invading, and ending the weekend killing a 16-year-old with the same shotguns they pointed at me. At my Love.
Loaded guns.
It had been comforting in some way to imagine that the guns had probably not been loaded. That they were props for fear and would not really be used.
But they were. And they were used to kill a boy. Twenty-four hours after they were pointed at me. At us.
This new knowledge leaves me reeling. Disgusted at a world so broken-up that children could lay hands on weapons. And use them to kill. Land themselves in big-boy prison for an undecided amount of time. Sad for a world that encourages violence with movies, music, and video games that turn real life a live-action game.
Life's a jumble. But I am alive. And we drive home silent. Stunned. Thankful for life but aching for all that is lost. Praying to the God who sees to be near and for Jesus to just come on down and free up this place. For heaven to come.
Just come.
