The picture above is of the lady who tried to help Dawud.

Random thoughts at the two-week mark:

Why do I still wake up every morning with my very first waking thought being "Dawud"?

Why does my little boy (who has shown some precognition in the past) keep saying "they have to look at the pictures from where they slapped Dawud"?  (he knows that some bad people hurt his uncle, but he's only five).   And then why, when I asked the detectives about videotape (this is a major intersection with businesses all around), why do they say they haven't had time to review the videotape they have?

Why does my tongue keep slipping and calling my son by my brother's name? (I never did that before)

Why did we have to move our memorial down from the spot where my brother's car stopped simply because some miserable, ugly, fat, sloppy lush lives in the house behind there?  What kind of  miserable person would disrespect a site like this by removing candles, balloons and stuffed animals from something that wasn't bothering him and wasn't on his property - and not bring the items back?  Why would this guy come out when I was there and try to start trouble with me?  He even lied and said that HE was the person trying to help Dawud when everyone else at the scene said he was saying things like, "Get this noise away from my house", "you don't have to scream so loud" (this to the girl who was calling for help from the car),  and "you're wasting your time trying to help him".  His own SON, who lives in the house between his and his skanky bar, argued with him about what he was doing.  This will be the last amount of typing energy I spend on this waste of air and his equally ugly, skanky wife ... we have plenty of time, and you will suffer the consequences of your actions.  You will not only be miserable, but you will be miserable AND broke. 

Why do the people who run my brother's obituary guestbook not let my postings with a link to this website go up? 

Why do I have to keep going out and putting up posters as people take them down?

Why hasn't any of the many people who HAD to see what was happening that night come forward?  I can somewhat understand not wanting to get into the middle of a fight as it was happening (although if I saw five on one, I'd be sorely tempted to even it out - I've sat at Public Square on my cell phone looking young thugs dead in the eye while I called the police on them for jumping on one older guy while everyone else ignored what was happening), but why didn't anyone call the police from the scene of the actual event?

Why can't I have one more good chance to let my brother know that I really, really love him and that when I get on him about things, it's because I want better for him ... I want him to have the good life he deserves and I want him .... I just want him to be here, and now he's not, and I keep crying and .... the bastards who did this ... collectively, they are not worth ONE hair on my brother's head.