“He killed my son.”
Words no father should ever utter, and yet that these words hang in the atmosphere over Sanford, Fla., like humidity on a dank summer’s eve; like an echo unanswered, demanding recompense.
Tracey Martin’s outcry at the killing of his 17-year-old son, Trayvon, armed only with a bag of Skittles and a bottle of Arizona Tea — cut down in the prime of life while walking to a friend’s house — has set off a firestorm of protests.
I join my voice to the growing list of “The Outraged.”
How can a father reconcile such an inexplicable act? How can he deal with such palpable grief? As a father and grandfather myself, I know that injustice is not something you necessarily define for your offspring. It is something you feel viscerally, share exponentially and recognize when you see it. It alarms the senses, raises the hair on the back of one’s neck, and brings to the forefront of memory, tales of atrocities past, handed down generation to generation like fine linen. The Fourteenth Amendment guaranteed all citizens equal protection under the law, and yet in this moment we are aggrieved over such a misappropriation of the very justice that so many gave their lives to achieve.
Continue to read the rest here at the Huffington Post.