Post by Tomspy77 on Jun 7, 2009 23:19:48 GMT -6
June 4, 2009
BY RICHARD ROEPER Sun-Times Columnist
In 1995, an 8-year-old boy from Humboldt Park called and left me a message.
"Hello Richard Roeper, this is the kid who wrote that article on gangs. Here's my phone number. . . . Call me whenever you can, OK?"
ยป Click to enlarge image
Richard Roeper
The boy's teacher had asked his third-grade students to keep a journal. The teacher had sent me an entry from this little boy's journal. Here's an excerpt of what that 8-year-old wrote in 1995:
"I feel bad that people are killing people. I hate that people don't care about kids or grown-ups, because we want to live our life saying, 'I love my life.'
"People are killing babies, toddlers, newborns and even moms who have babies in their stomachs. If the world stays like this, nobody, and I mean nobody, will survive.
"And there's few things that are doing this and it's only gangs. People can't even wear some clothes because of them. We can't even have one decent day.
"There is only one that can save us and that is the police. That is the only way. If not we are all going to die."
Eight years old.
At the time, his teacher told me: "He's obviously a pretty special kid, extremely bright. But the fact that an 8-year-old boy has concerns such as these is a tragedy."
I talked to the boy.
"People are getting shot," he told me. "It hasn't happened on my street but it happened on the next street over. It happens all the time. Some people in my neighborhood don't like the cops, but I know they're the good guys. If they don't win over the gangs, nobody will. . . . We can't even have one decent day."
And then I wrote:
"[As] I talked with [him], I tried to picture where he'd be when he was 25. I wished I could guarantee he'd get to 25."
Fourteen years later . . .
When I wrote that column, the teacher had faxed the journal entry to me, and the little boy had left his message on an answering machine.
Hardly anybody sends faxes or has answering machines anymore. But people do still send letters. Sometimes that's the only option.
Some 14 years after that column appeared, a handwritten letter arrived at the Sun-Times.
The letter was written in pencil, on lined notebook paper, and it was from a man in his early 20s who wrote:
"[About 14 years ago], I wrote a passage in my journal at school about my neighborhood and how gangs were polluting my area. My teacher sent it to you and you in turn wrote an article about it."
I knew the next part was coming, because I'd seen the return address on the letter. Still, it was heartbreaking.
"It turns out I didn't become any better than the trash I was talking about in my journal. I am facing federal drug charges for drug conspiracy while my daughter just turned one year old."
The sad sequel to the story
The young man is inmate #84433 in an Illinois jail. (I'm choosing to withhold his name for the sake of his family.) I wrote back to him after he contacted me, and he sent a second letter with more details.
"I started off as a great kid with no direction. My father was a gang member and my mom was very young when she had me. . . .
"[When I was] 13 my father was incarcerated for narcotics. I was very close to my father so that took a toll on me and my little brother. I began smoking marijuana and drinking excessively. My grades slowly went from A's and B's to C's and D's. I transferred from Clemente High School to [the school] where my gang affiliation would begin.
"I lived with my grandparents . . . because me and my mother did not see eye to eye. I started staying out more and more. I graduated in 2004 . . . [but] once I got introduced to drug dealing, my life would never be the same. I started making money but slowly ending my life. I now have two priors for possession of crack cocaine. . . .
"I had so much potential, but I threw it all away. I feel like a failure. I have two daughters that I care for dearly but I may not be able to raise because I am facing [long prison sentences].
"This is my story. I am not asking anything of you. Just tell people they should be there for their kids, or their children might end up like me.
"We all start out good. I was a good kid who made wrong choices, now I'm facing 10 to life."
We all start out good. That smart kid who had seen too much at the age of 8 is now a smart young man who was in a bad situation and made bad choices. You can condemn his actions, but it doesn't mean you can't pray for him and his family.
I'm trying to picture where his children might be 15 years from now.
BY RICHARD ROEPER Sun-Times Columnist
In 1995, an 8-year-old boy from Humboldt Park called and left me a message.
"Hello Richard Roeper, this is the kid who wrote that article on gangs. Here's my phone number. . . . Call me whenever you can, OK?"
ยป Click to enlarge image
Richard Roeper
The boy's teacher had asked his third-grade students to keep a journal. The teacher had sent me an entry from this little boy's journal. Here's an excerpt of what that 8-year-old wrote in 1995:
"I feel bad that people are killing people. I hate that people don't care about kids or grown-ups, because we want to live our life saying, 'I love my life.'
"People are killing babies, toddlers, newborns and even moms who have babies in their stomachs. If the world stays like this, nobody, and I mean nobody, will survive.
"And there's few things that are doing this and it's only gangs. People can't even wear some clothes because of them. We can't even have one decent day.
"There is only one that can save us and that is the police. That is the only way. If not we are all going to die."
Eight years old.
At the time, his teacher told me: "He's obviously a pretty special kid, extremely bright. But the fact that an 8-year-old boy has concerns such as these is a tragedy."
I talked to the boy.
"People are getting shot," he told me. "It hasn't happened on my street but it happened on the next street over. It happens all the time. Some people in my neighborhood don't like the cops, but I know they're the good guys. If they don't win over the gangs, nobody will. . . . We can't even have one decent day."
And then I wrote:
"[As] I talked with [him], I tried to picture where he'd be when he was 25. I wished I could guarantee he'd get to 25."
Fourteen years later . . .
When I wrote that column, the teacher had faxed the journal entry to me, and the little boy had left his message on an answering machine.
Hardly anybody sends faxes or has answering machines anymore. But people do still send letters. Sometimes that's the only option.
Some 14 years after that column appeared, a handwritten letter arrived at the Sun-Times.
The letter was written in pencil, on lined notebook paper, and it was from a man in his early 20s who wrote:
"[About 14 years ago], I wrote a passage in my journal at school about my neighborhood and how gangs were polluting my area. My teacher sent it to you and you in turn wrote an article about it."
I knew the next part was coming, because I'd seen the return address on the letter. Still, it was heartbreaking.
"It turns out I didn't become any better than the trash I was talking about in my journal. I am facing federal drug charges for drug conspiracy while my daughter just turned one year old."
The sad sequel to the story
The young man is inmate #84433 in an Illinois jail. (I'm choosing to withhold his name for the sake of his family.) I wrote back to him after he contacted me, and he sent a second letter with more details.
"I started off as a great kid with no direction. My father was a gang member and my mom was very young when she had me. . . .
"[When I was] 13 my father was incarcerated for narcotics. I was very close to my father so that took a toll on me and my little brother. I began smoking marijuana and drinking excessively. My grades slowly went from A's and B's to C's and D's. I transferred from Clemente High School to [the school] where my gang affiliation would begin.
"I lived with my grandparents . . . because me and my mother did not see eye to eye. I started staying out more and more. I graduated in 2004 . . . [but] once I got introduced to drug dealing, my life would never be the same. I started making money but slowly ending my life. I now have two priors for possession of crack cocaine. . . .
"I had so much potential, but I threw it all away. I feel like a failure. I have two daughters that I care for dearly but I may not be able to raise because I am facing [long prison sentences].
"This is my story. I am not asking anything of you. Just tell people they should be there for their kids, or their children might end up like me.
"We all start out good. I was a good kid who made wrong choices, now I'm facing 10 to life."
We all start out good. That smart kid who had seen too much at the age of 8 is now a smart young man who was in a bad situation and made bad choices. You can condemn his actions, but it doesn't mean you can't pray for him and his family.
I'm trying to picture where his children might be 15 years from now.
