Day 10
Surviving was something I had to learn on the fly after the bullet meant for Jim ended up in the wall behind him rather than his head. I was sentenced to two years in Delaware’s juvenile detention center. Not for shooting at my stepfather, but for assault and burglary four years later. I got the golden ticket—a maximum sentence of two years.
My biggest regret was getting separated from my brother. After the shooting, Jim wanted no part of me and neither did my mother. Child protective services placed us in an orphanage in Newark. There wasn’t much of a difference between the orphanage and juvie. I preferred juvie because at least there I didn’t have to pretend to be something I wasn’t. Pretending to be a good boy when potential adopters came, inspecting us as if we were little puppies at a pet shop, then inevitably not being chosen. Juvie was straightforward. Nobody gave a fuck about us
I had missed. I told the police it was just a warning shot and they didn’t charge me with attempted murder. I was lucky, but for sure didn’t feel that way…
