ANOTHER ROUND

11.22.1997

There he is, floating in the river. Every time I dream it always comes to that: the horrific sight scarring my memory. It was dark, there couldn't be many of them; he told me to call for back up. But it was too late. What was I supposed to do-- could I have done more? Sam's body floating in the river, four bullets in his back. That's what I have to look back on. What a great way to start a career.

I go to the firing range a lot more now. It seems to release some of the frustration, the stress. I used to keep track of the rounds but I've lost count. It doesn't seem to matter anymore. My mentor, my partner, my friend- Sam's dead.