Speak Up

My brother was killed by police on February 19, 2003. He was 18 years old. He had been addicted to meth for about 2 years. Towards the end of his addiction, he began comitting robberies and burglaries and stealing cars. The last car he stole belonged to the mother of a local cop. He also stole money from my parents, my mother's jewelry, and my Dad's business checks. He also stole credit cards regularly. He was so out of control that he pulled a 9mm Ruger on me and pointed it at me from 10 feet away, and I thought he was going to shoot me. He did this because I flipped out about how skinny he had gotten in the month since I had last seen him. I demanded to know what he was on, and we struggled in the kitchen before he ran to his room for the gun. My father came upstairs and my brother took off to hide the pistol. I don't know if would have shot me or not, but he looked like he would have. I had a friend call the police and have him locked up, I was so scared that he would hurt someone or himself. I later found out he had been up for 5 days. My mother was an enabler. He would shake her down for 20-40 bucks at a time to go buy a bag. I got so nagry at my family for not doing more to save him, I don't think they wanted to admit he was on something as horrible as meth. He went to jail one other time, and this was for auto theft. For some reason, he was let go. I asked his Probation Officers to request a mandarory 6 month rehab, but no one listened to me, I was just his sister. Even though I was 10 years older than him, I was still just a sister, and I couldn't make those decisions. I saw him the day he died. I was angry at him because he had wrecked our Dad's truck the week before and wasn't doing the paperwork for the insurance company like he was supposed to. I didn't even look at him as he went out the door....he never came back. At 5:45 pm, my little brother was shot 14 times by police while sitting in the driver's seat of the stolen car. He was in gridlocked traffic and had no where to run. The passenger was not even grazed by any bullets. I had to take the call from the coroner, as my mother could not deal with it. My brother didn't take his wallet, so we had to wait for the body to be fingerprinted. It was a high profile case, and it was all over the news. We had reporters at our house for days, knocking on the doors, following me in my car, and showing up at the wake and the funeral. My entire family was blown apart. My father and mother have not recovered, even though it will be a decade come this February 19th. My son was 8 when he lost his only uncle, and it was devastating to have to tell a little boy something so horrific. Meth killed my little brother. My blonde haired, blue eyed, freckle faced little brother. Meth killed my parents spiritually to the point that my mother can barely look at me without crying. My mother divorced my Dad and left the country, my father moved out of state, 600 miles away. Meth nearly killed me as well, but I have fought the darkness, I have fought the sadness, as I know my brother wouldn't want to see me that way. Ten long years and I still miss him every day, I still wonder "what if", I still see him in every shaven headed young man driving a camaro or other sports car. I have to catch myself and come back to reality that he is gone.... One thing I wish I could have done is say goodbye..... For Michael, as I knew him....this is for you little brother, we will meet again!