Guilty?

 

Coming home from an afternoon of shopping with her mom felt safe and warm. The sun was shining, and the car ride was pleasant. They talked about the supermarket offers and what they were going to cook for dinner that evening.

 As they reached their home, mom got out of the car and started to open the garage door. Suddenly, two young boys approached her window. One of them pointed a gun at her. Something came over her. She put the car into reverse and drove away – no destination whatsoever. She just ran away from that situation without turning back.

Meanwhile, her mom closed the garage door and screamed for her husband to come outside. ‘They pointed a gun at her head! She drove away! They are running up the street!’ Her husband ran out of the house and chased the boys up the street.

As he was heading back, his cell phone rang. It was his daughter. ‘Come back. They have fled. It is sa…’ The girl noticed her father´s voice had changed. He was struggling to speak. Suddenly they were disconnected.

As she approached her home, she noticed a mob in front of her house. There was a body lying on the ground – motionless. There was a neighbor trying to perform CPR – to no avail. Her father had gone. No gunshot wound. No blood. His face had turned purple due to the lack of oxygen. She couldn´t make out whether he was breathing. He had gone. Died.

Later that week, the neighborhood watch had posted a video on the WhatsApp group of the events of that day. She can´t get over the fact that her father had a heart attack. She hasn´t got the nerves to delete it. She watches it over and over again. Sobs. Screams. She has been in her bedroom since then and won´t come out – not even to eat.

Written: February 11, 2025

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