Written By: Ana Lomeli
July 9, 2015
Marc 3rd 2009, it was a day like any other. Like any normal 10 year old girl. There I was sitting in school daydreaming about going home to play. Little did I know that would be the last time that I would ever day dream about something like that. 5:00pm hit, I was alone in my room standing there staring out my bedroom window. I saw five year old Evelyn and her father Orlando playing soccer. I heard laughter. The laughter then turned in to screams of fear. Three African American males dressed in black approached him. They started beating him up and taking away his personal belongings. There was Evelyn crying in hope that someone would be there to help. But there was no one there. The guys ran off. As they did, one of them turned around and shot Orlando in the back. My body froze. I screamed, I yelled, I was shocked. I dialed 911. No one else but me obeying the lady on the phone I ran outside. Cold wind, no shoes, I sat right beside him. His face was purple, white foam was coming out of his mouth. I tried to get him to wake up. I shook him once, I shook him twice, no response. Sirens, helicpoters, people in the background.