20 Years & 5 Months Later, Justice for Steve

20 years later.

Steve has been gone for 20 years. 20 years and exactly 5 months if you want to be specific. I think of him often. I look at my own children and so often think I can’t imagine if they were murdered tomorrow. Both of my boys are now officially older than Steve the day he died.

It breaks my heart. They aren’t close enough ready to understand cause and effect. To grasp that stealing from a drug dealer will possibly end their life. They have no idea. I didn’t know this 20 years ago. Steve didn’t know this 20 years ago.

Tonight, I went for a simple low-key beer. Not a big deal. I just go to the local brewery. It’s a higher end group of people. Classier. Quieter. 3 beer limit. Minding my own business as a table grows bigger in the corner. Old friends. So happy to see each other.

Then in walks Chad. I silently watch. Knowing it’s him. I haven’t saw him since the restaurant in February. Yet, I know it’s him. The same old Chad. Same face. Same walk. Just 20 years older. More chiseled. He’s grown up from that teenager but I know it’s him.

I can’t help but watch. Every move. Every step. He never ordered his own beer. Yet, had beer in front of him he drank. He laughed. He smiled. He lived life. He talked of the how he lived in a different town once. He made friends. He connected with old friends.

I just stared. I didn’t break eye contact. I silently sipped my beer. Thinking of Steve. Thinking of Steve’s mom. Thinking of my own kids. Thinking of the horror of Steve’s last moments and the fact this man was present. Watching them. Making them happen. Yet he was so free now.

I wished I was the old me. The me that could have interrupted and said – Hey, he lived in that town because he was in prerelease. Remember Chad? It wasn’t voluntary. Wishing I was the old me that could have drank another beer, taken a shot and  smiled so nicely – pretending I missed this guy, asking him how he’d been, hitting on him, inviting him for a walk.

Where would I walk to? That’s easy. The cemetery across the street. To Steve’s grave .1 miles away. To smile and then ask if he thinks of him. If his final moments haunt him. If he ever stops to imagine the young man who got down on his knees and begged for his life before bullets were shot into his face. Before his body was moved and burned. Before his body was so ruined his mother couldn’t say goodbye.

How can he live so carefree? How can he get a beer which is against all rules of his release so close to where his victim lay? Does he have no compassion, empathy or guilt?

To say I’m angry is an understatement. I’m sad. I’m angry. I don’t understand. This guy was given a second free chance and he doesn’t even appear to care. At all. My heart aches for Steve’s mom. To lose her son in such a senseless, awful, horrid way. It isn’t fair. But what is most unfair is one of his murderers gets to walk the streets Steve should be walking. Completely free. Completely oblivious to the pain he’s caused.

Of course I took pictures. What kind of friend would I be not to? When I left I wasn’t sure what I’d do with them. I felt the need to take them though. To have evidence of what I’ve saw. I came home and checked the felony database. Chad was given 90 years. He’s on parole. He was given a lighter sentence due to testifying against the other guy. He then did some appeal and was released on parole even sooner. The original rule was he couldn’t come back here. Though, that rule is obviously up. I’m right when I say he shouldn’t be drinking or in an establishment whose primary purpose is serving alcohol. He should be lucky he’s out of prison at all and not still sitting on that 90 year sentence.

What will I do with them? I’m emailing them to Probation and Parole. I’m telling them this exact post. My friend was murdered. My heart hurts 20 years later. I can’t imagine my own child being a victim of this heinous crime. I can’t imagine spending 20 years on this planet with my child buried in the ground, knowing he suffered immensely in his final moments. I can’t imagine killing someone and moving on like nothing happened. I can’t imagine having beers just yards from where my victim was buried. Then it’s their problem and I can at least tell Steve I did what I could for him. He deserves justice. He deserves to never be forgotten.

Steve wasn’t just some punk kid messed up in drugs and bad people. He was a 17 year old boy who made a bad choice and simply stole a safe with money, baseball cards and cocaine because his older friends told him to. A 17 year old boy who was someone’s son, grandson, nephew, cousin, friend. He was a boy who would help his friends no matter what. A boy people loved.

Not once did he deserve to have his life taken.

I’ve made my fair share of mistakes. I lived on the same path as Steve once.  I climbed out of that whole and have created a decent life. Steve never had that chance. He may have done amazing things too. Possibly. Maybe. Quite likely. But someone stole that life from him before he could climb out on top with me.

The world will never get to know what he was capable of, what he could have accomplished. He will never get to prove he was so much more than a troubled kid. He will never welcome his first baby, grandbaby or get married. He will never escape those bad choices we made….

All because 20 years and 5 months ago, when Steve was 17 years and 2 months old two people decided he didn’t matter, his life wasn’t worth anymore than some lost money, cocaine and baseball cards. And with that they shot him to death, while making him kneel and beg for his life.  Like he was nothing.

Steve – you weren’t nothing then, you’re not nothing now. You were special, amazing, the friend we all dreamed of. You’re so much more than nothing. It won’t bring you back, but I do promise I’ll always fight for your justice. Fight for the fact your life was something, so much more than what your murderers did to you. You deserved the chance to grow up.

So, tomorrow, I’ll be sure I have the correct email addresses and I’ll share these pictures. My thoughts, feelings, hurt and how much more you deserve Steve. Because you deserve more. You always have. You always will.