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September 17, 2002
My mom and I were at home waiting for my sister and brothers to return from the video store. It was supposed to be a simple drop-off of watched tapes. Martial Arts flicks. It had been awhile, longer than it usually takes. My mom wasn’t worrying yet. Until the phone rang. And it was my sister. Screaming. Barely coherent. Something about my brother. And a man. And an attack. My mom, hysterical. She dropped the phone and screamed at me. She couldn’t decide what to do. They’d taken the car. Four miles from the store and the sanity of peace.