No. 2
I was 12 and on my way home, when my father came driving up beside me and asked me to get into his car. Once I got in I noticed immediately that he wasn't alone and that the two men who we're with him weren't anyone I'd seen before. They we're big men in their 40's, all dressed in black and wearing sunglasses, they had the look of men you didn't want to mess with, the kind that scared the shit out of you immediately. Whoever they we're they said nothing and never looked at me. The older one drove and the other one sat beside me. My father on the other hand sat in the front passenger seat. He gave me specific instructions to sit back and be quiet. He tried making me feel comfortable by saying that we we're going on a short little trip; it didn't work, I knew something was up. We drove into a large abandoned warehouse on the south end of town, near the docks. When we stopped, one man pulled up to my father's window and signalled to him to get out and come with him. My father nodded and told me to sit tight and that he would be right back. He never did.
No. 3
Standing there, above his body as it lies lifeless, I was immediately convinced that my life too was now over. His name was Frieder and he had just killed my father. He was tall, menacing, possessing eyes that paralyzed me with a bruiting intensity, their darkness gave me a feeling that I was now his and that this was not over. I was alone, with him and his men in some warehouse, unable to escape. Scared and wanting to cry, his men sat me down and told me not move. He would tell me that my father was one of his secret employees. His job had been to investigate the movement of cocaine by his numerous distributors in the city. My father was one of his main confidants, someone he had trusted. My father was dead because he let one shipment pass through without inspection. He was dead because he got greedy, and Frieder wanted me to know it. Hearing this I was at a loss. My father, a criminal, a drug dealer, a liar. It was then that I started to cry.
No. 4
"Your father’s disobedience was unwarranted and it got him killed. You are his son and you will be mine until you make up his debt to me". These words echo in my mind profusely to this day. Even as I sit here in this cell, I still can't shake their grip over me. His arrogance and utter lack of moral decency has always dumbfounded me. I was just a boy, just an innocent 12 year old boy! As it stands now, that would be the last day of my life as I had once known it. Everything changed from then on, and my dead father’s body had been a clear example of just how changed it was going to get. Frieder had plans for me and he wasted no time in exacting them. After telling me that statement, he had his men take me to the airport, where I was put on a plane to Washington. It was there that I was to be put in the hands of his brother, Henry Foyle, whom he’d known for years and used as his main dealer in the nation’s capital. I was to become one of Henry’s young protégé’s, someone he could develop succinctly with his son Dallas, who like me was also 12. To this day I can still remember sitting in that chair, on that long plane ride as tears flowed down my face while I pondered in horror at what had just transpired in front of me. Little would I realize at the time, but that day would also be the last day I would ever see my mother. For the longest time I never understood why she had never come for me, and for awhile I even hated her for it. However, that lasted until I was 19. It wasn't until then that I would finally find out the truth as to why she had never come for me. It would be on my 19th birthday, and it was to be Frieder's birthday present to me that year, he wanted to be the one to personally tell me. Originally I had been told that she had found out everything and had chosen to abandon me out of fear for her life. I never believed it and I always knew that something was wrong. I knew she loved me, and that she would never abandon me. I was right. Frieder would tell me that she had been presented with news that my father and I had both been tragically killed in a head on collision on the freeway outside of town. That we had been killed by a drunken teenager, who had swerved into us at full speed, killing us instantly; and that our bodies had been burnt so extensively warranting them unrecoverable. He would tell me this with so much conviction and detail that I knew it was finally the truth. My mother had been fed a lie and he loved every second of it. I was tempted to kill him then, and almost would have had he not told me her reaction to the news. She committed suicide 3 days later. I began to cry again.
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