...about a tragic and senseless death...

This past Saturday evening (October 20th), I'd gone to bed early so I could study. As I was dozing off, the phone rang. It was Sean, one of my son's friends looking for Matthew...and asking me if I had heard anything about another friend (Steven) being shot. I jumped out of bed and called Jessica, Steven's girlfriend, who answered the phone on the first ring, sobbing uncontrollably. When my husband and I ran outside, we could see that the street around the corner was full of cars and people, and beyond that, the flashing lights of the police. Matthew's friends were walking down the street toward us, sobbing. But where was Matthew, we wanted to know. We were told that he was "back there" as they pointed toward a house surrounded with yellow crime scene tape. Not my baby, please God. Like all of the other neighborhood parents, we stood there in shock and anxiety, waiting to hear what had happened, and if it involved our children. It is a horrible thing to say, but each familiar face walking toward us that wasn't our son made our hearts sink even further. Finally someone pointed toward Matthew who was standing with several police officers. He's alive. Don't let him get arrested, please. What did he do? He came walking toward his friends sobbing and holding his hands out in front of himself. They were covered in blood up to his wrists, and his clothes were bloody. No handcuffs, what happened?? Through the sobs, he told us that he'd let Steven down. How? We heard a word here or there from his tearful friends, and were able to piece together what had happened. Someone...someone in our neighborhood, had opened his home to a large group of kids from 16 to 20 years old. It is unclear whether or not he supplied the alcohol, or simply the party location. The party had been going on for some time before Matthew arrived. Only moments after walking in the front door, he heard screaming and crying from kids who were rushing into the home from the back yard. Someone shouted, "Steven's shot!" Matthew ran through the house, pushing people aside and found someone laying on the ground. It was his good friend, Steven. He saw blood on Steven's arm, but no wound. Matthew is taking an EMT class as part of his training in order to apply to the fire department, and his training kicked into gear. He began a head-to-toe assessment, but didn't need to go further than the head. Blood was pouring from an entry wound on one side, and as he felt for an exit wound, pieces of Steven's brain fell into his hand. He pulled off his shirt and wrapped it around Steven's head, getting one of the girls to hold it firmly to try to stop the bleeding as Matthew checked for a pulse and breathing, and began to administer CPR. He yelled for someone to call 911, and continued to perform CPR until the police came, and paramedics examined Steven. For all of his efforts, Steven still died. The story has been unfolding ever since; we're still not sure where the gun came from, but Steven discharged it into the air, scaring some of the others at the party. To show them the gun was empty, he aimed it at his head and fired.
He leaves to mourn his passing his mother, step-father, father, grandmother, seven sisters and brothers, nieces and nephews, his many friends, his girlfriend of three years, and the families of those teens who had attended the party and who, like me Saturday night, had prayed that it was someone else's child, not our own.
If anything positive can come from such a hideous, needless death, I'd like to know what that is. Will the kids who were at the party stop drinking or never touch a gun? Will adults become more responsible and not provide liquor to underage drinkers or supervise these parties better? I think of Steven, and the goals he will never have an opportunity to achieve, the wife and children he will never have, the nieces and nephews who will only remember him from the photos on the wall. I think of his parents and their unspeakable loss. And I think of my son dealing with this experience that he will relive over and over again in his mind until the day he too passes away. He says he keeps going over and over in his head, all that he did that night, and feels that it was not enough. All of our lives are changed forever...and it sucks.

Steven Hogan, twenty years old, a life not yet lived to the fullest...your memory will live on in those you leave behind.