Growing up in a small town, I felt safe. Nothing bad ever happened. I was 15 years old, enjoying my high school years, and just having fun. I had an 18 year old brother. He was always there for me when I had rough days. He told me to never let people get to you. He was the kind of person who got along with everyone. Some days he would pick me up from school and we would hang out, playing video games. Before he moved out, he would play guitar. All hours, every hour if he could. I fall asleep listening to him play. His passion just grew from there. Once he bought his home, he saved his money and vamped it up with Marshall stacks and some very sweet guitars. One day when he picked me up, he told me he wanted to go to this music college down south near his fiance. I was so happy he wanted to get out of our small boring town. We talked about it and his face just lit up with joy. That was short lasted though. December, 2004 his home was robbed while he was at work. He didn't care about his games or even money being gone. It was his guitars that broke his heart. He spent years playing them, mastering so many songs, and they were gone. It was more than them being expensive, it was a sentimental thing. He worked so hard to get everything he had. And in one day, they were just gone. He was heart broken and wanted to find who took it. Hoping he can barter to get it back somehow. To lure the robber, he told people to spread that he had money and drugs in his home. On Jan. 5th, 2005 he had a cold. Our granny was coming by to bring him some soup. While I was at school, I had no idea a student had a gun with him that day. It was just a normal school day til around band class. I had an uneasy feeling in my stomach. When I got home, I was sitting down and having a snack, finishing up my home work. It was my Granny. I don't know how I understood her between her cries and screams. She told me to call 911, your brother is hurt. I ran to my parents and told them. We called the police and as they left, I knew this wasn't right. I grabbed my cell phone, charger, and just paced back and fourth until they came back. I was frightened when I saw them. They were crying, blood on their clothes, I had no idea what happened. They told me to jump in and we raced to the hospital. I honestly have no idea how we did not get in a wreck on our way. Going 90 and passing every car we could. When we arrived at the hospital, I saw the helicopter. I knew that wasn't a good sign. My uncle was there and hopped in the driver seat. On our 25 minute drive to the bigger hospital in a nearby city, my dad was crying, telling me he thinks my brother won't make it. When we arrived, we ran in, it was basically a waiting game. My granny told us there were guys in his house. She heard a shot and they ran out. All I could think of, who were "they"? Why would they do this to him? Our whole family were there, along with my brother's friend, and my best friend. They tried to cheer me up , distracting me with walks through the hospital. Finally, the doctor came in and said the words that still haunt me. He was shot, we can't save him. It felt like the doctors just gave up. They weren't sympathetic and I think that made the words sting more. We cried, screamed, our hearts were SHATTERED. A few hours went by after we received the dreadful news. It was late at night and I tried to get any sleep I could to get away from this nightmare. It was cold and dreary on this Winter night. Jan. 6th came and we sat down with the doctor. They told us we can say our final goodbyes. When I walked in the room, he didn't even look like himself. His face was swollen and he was lifeless. I told him I loved him. I'll never forget him. And miss him. I kissed his cheek and tried to hug what I could that didn't have cables and cords attached to him. I didn't want to leave the room. Because I knew once I did, that was it. I stepped out, and my mom got to spend some time with him. They pulled the plug and he was gone. We left the hospital, leaving a part of us behind. It felt like a nightmare. We would turn the tv on and see his house. It was like we couldn't escape this harsh reality. The funeral came and it was the largest funeral our town has ever seen. People were outside, around the building. There were so many unfamiliar faces that were friends of his, teachers, principals, and one person who shouldn't have been there. They arrest the one who stole all of his stuff a month later. Turns out he showed up to his funeral. A few weeks went by, and it was my sweet sixteen. I couldn't enjoy it at all. I thought this was the hardest thing I ever had to do. That was short lived. While we were in the hospital, the police were doing their work in finding who committed this murder. There were five students from my high school. One, I grew up with since grade school. To know I walked by all of them in the halls of our school tore me up. A few months went by and the trial finally came. I noticed a lot of students from school there that I didn't know well. Turns out, they were friends and girlfriends of the accused. The five walked in, smiling, waving, talking to them. Like nothing ever happened. My family sat there, shocked that anyone could be this cold hearted. As the trials progressed, so did tension in my small town. The friends of the five made shirts referencing to have them out of jail. When I heard about this, it just hurt so bad. How could anyone in their right mind want a murderer out of jail? We decided to make our own. Justice for my brother. I was so happy my parents pulled me out of school. If I saw this, I don't know how I'd handle it. That didn't last long as the principal banned them from school. Which, they probably should have done from the start. The trials progressed further and the sentencing of four happened. Four of them went to rob him. Of course, he had nothing to steal. So, they took a cell phone and cologne. They were sentenced 10 years. As for the one who brought the gun, his trials were much longer. During one, they played a phone call. I never knew there was true evil in this world until I heard it. His voice bragging about it. I had to leave the room because sitting a few feet away from him, all I thought of the evil things I could do to him. He sentenced to life, along with a few other sentences. During his tough time, I realized that the devil is real. There is no doubt. I turned to faith in God. Without my faith, I don't think I would have made it. Years have gone by since this happened. Yet, we still see the one who took him from us. He has appealed all of his sentences except two. There is a chance he may one day be free. A few months ago we saw him and it'll continue until we die. We cannot escape from this. So, we stand together. My family have become such strong people. Some days it's hard, but in the end, God is the judge. I pray one day Justice will be served. Although, it may not be what I want. It will be what the Lord wants. There is a reason why we're here. It's a part of his plan. The murderer took so much from us. I'm an only child now. But, he never took our memories. I thank God that we had what little time we did, with my brother. That he made a huge impact on so many lives. I still get emails from people telling me how he impacted their life for the better. That is what keeps us going