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  • It was August 10th, 1998 and I was 13 years old. It was one of the worst days of my life. It was day of the trial for my brother, Brian, in York, South Carolina.

    I was so young and so scared. The day seemed like forever, but it was only a few hours. A few hours of talking about something that should of taken months to fully understand and to properly and fairly evaluate. It was the day the rest of his life would be determined. It was the day he was sentenced two life sentences + some years w/o parole.

    When the judge announced the final decision, I didn't understand. How could someone possibly serve more than one life sentence? I just knew the final decision was bad, because the people on the other side of the court room were cheering, screaming, and got so happy; like their football team just won the super bowl.

    It was the day that reporters asked me if I thought my brother was a monster. That question confused me so much. I didn't understand what they were asking. They kept calling him a monster. I was confused, because monsters are not real and my brother was real. My brother meant everything to me.

    It was the day a stranger saw me crying outside the courtroom and came up to me and said, "every thing's gonna be alright," but it wasn't.

    It was the day that his attorney asked as many family members to get up and give a speech, because it would possibly help the case. Out of the three siblings, I was the youngest and the only to prepare a speech and give one. I'm not mad at my other brother and sister for not doing it. I understand why they were scared. I was scared too, but I wish they had. Here is my speech as a 13 year old girl. I wish I said more, but it probably wouldn't have made a difference. I remember as I was giving my speech and crying uncontrollably, the judge never once looked at me and was reading documents.

    I planted the little red guy in the photo in memory of my brother.

    I love you Brian. xo
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