When Art Reflects Real Life...A Tattoo From A New Friend...

"I went through a lot.  My dad was a severe alcoholic and also did heavy drugs, so I had a tough childhood.  That's where this tattoo comes from.  He died at the age of 49 in 1998.  I started drinking a lot myself.  This is me with my head down and crying while holding all my fears and tears from all I've been through in life...trying to hide it all from everyone."


Those are the words from a new friend who has dared to send me her tattoes, with the stories of their symbolism and meaning.  She happens to be a fellow Lower East Sider, 11 years younger than me, and who like myself, has since migrated out of the area.  Despite the fact that we never knew each other before she responded to my tattoo request - there was an unbelievable and instant connection of understanding and recognition of her pain and experiences.  I either witnessed or experienced so much of the same that she went through.  She grew up just one or two blocks from my middle school at a time when many negative social issues where overwhelming the neighborhood.

So I say these words to her and to others throughout the world who may have felt this same way in the past or the present - you are not alone.  No one gets through this life unscathed.  Truly what doesn't kill us makes us stronger.  We have survived.  We are alive.  And now we live to tell, to teach, to share...perhaps to save the life and soul of someone younger than us.

So to those still living and going through changes - here is our message:  Just keep the faith.  Continue to lean towards the positive.  Do not allow the tempting thoughts of the negative slip in and take you off your righteous path towards a positive life.  Resort to as many positive people around you that you can - or even reach out here to me through this blog.  Email me at NYEastside.info@gmail.com

A million "thank you's" to my new sister for sharing her tattoos.  I knew that she has more to show us and teach us.  But, I had to start off everyone who reads my blog with just a glimpse of some powerful symbolism in the world of tattoos.  There is much more to come.


John S LES

Where's Your Tattoo? Let's Ink About This!

Let's Ink About This...

I would love to write a post about tattoos.  Well...that's if people have some interesting to show and share with the world?  I might even write a fictional story featuring a tattoo based story sometime down the road.  The bottom line is that more now than ever before a lot of New Yorkers are wearing tattoos.  From the big cities to the suburbs, men and women, young and old alike, a lot of people are getting painted.

Now I myself do not have any tattoos to show off to anyone.  I've never gone the distance on getting painted.  However, I am interested in forming/shaping up a feature post - to allow those who read my blogs to "share" their story.

Now I don't need your name.  That's optional.  But I would like your picture, your permission and a short story behind your painting.  All you have to do is email me at NYEastside.Info@gmail.com, or Kik @ NYEastsideE.

So it's time for me to "brush up" on some reading about tattoos.  Because with one "easy stroke" I could be "painted" in the corner and left out of the loop on why more and more people are getting inked.

"Cop Killer - part 4" The Private iTeam by John S LES ©

"Cop Killer"

part 4 by John S LES

The next morning Linda's prophetic words had made many things clear to me.  I knew that a trip upstate New York was going to be necessary.  The Kingston Gardens resort that this group of Anti-Crime police officers used for their vacations with their families had to be investigated, not just by Internet postings and several phone calls, but also by direct contact.  We were going to have to see what it was like in person.

During the previous day, while I had met and dined with Linda, Marti and Grace used the rest of the afternoon to find out more about Kingston Garden online.  My team also continued to investigate other leads.  Noelle pursued the relationship between Money MacDaniel and the now deceased Mike Dupree.  Dupree was Santiago's boss and his only possible corroborating witness to what occurred the night DeLorenzo was killed.  Darren continued to shake down the streets on the west side.  Chris was going to join me on the road trip upstate.  We would go in separate cars and pose as two separate individuals while up there.

I had went back with Linda to her apartment and before our passionate attractions and affections got the best of us, I left.  She still felt like a client and that I was still working for her.  It was a good thing that I left that night.  I had a bad episode of dreams that night.  It was part of my lingering post traumatic disorder leftover angst from my combat days in the Army Rangers.  Sometimes those dreams haunted me.  Sometimes they simply served as a warning of impending danger the next day...like a sort of sixth sense that something dangerous was about to happen.


The drive from Bayside, Queens to Coxsackie is just under a 2 1/2 hrs depending on traffic and time of day.  Chris and I both decided to leave after 8:30 am to avoid the rush hour traffic, but that once we approached Coxsackie we would stagger entering a half hour behind each other.  I played myself, a private investigator from NYC, while Chris dressed up in a suit and played the role of a competing insurance broker from the New England area who specialized in insuring commercial resorts.  Chris wanted to have some fun letting his normally hidden Bostonian accent run free from his mouth.

During the first hour and a half of the drive, using the Bluetooth system in our cars, Chris and I had a 20 minute, 4 way conversation with Derek and Marti which produced some important updates.  Darren had come across some uptown street dealers who competed against Mike Dupree's downtown traffic.  The police concluded that Dupree was probably killed in his own apartment during a power struggle between him and one of his lieutenants who wanted to take over the partnership with MacDaniels.  However, the latest word on the street was that MacDaniels was now backing out of any re-associations with street corner dealers.  To make matters even more strange, most street dealers thought that  MacDaniels' alliance with Dupree seemed unusual to begin with.  That alliance only seemed to favor Dupree, more than it did MacDaniels.  MacDaniels had already washed his drug money clean the past five years by investing in two 24 hour laundromats, three car washers and three disposable cellular phone companies.  He also had invested some of his money from those businesses on Wall Street and was doing well.  His getting back into street corner drug business seemed like a step back for someone who had worked to be in his position.

By the time we ended the 4 way conversation, Coxsackie was now just 45 minutes away.  My bad dreams the night before, this new information on the relationship between Dupree and MacDaniels and the specter of this band of rogue cops and DeLorenzo bad cops.  All of these elements and variables mixed together.  Although I didn't know what Chris and I were driving into, I definitely knew that whatever we found would probably mean the beginning of the end of these rogue police officers.  And I was right.

When I arrived at Coxsackie, I tried to meet up with the police chief, Roy O'Callaghan.  The Coxsackie police department had a total of 23 police officers who worked around the clock to watch over a town population of roughly 7,000 plus residents.  Crime had not been an issue in the town, however, the chief admitted to there being a spike of drug use in the town.  He had not been able to pinpoint the spike, but he did note that town rumor was that it came from the owners of the Kingston Gardens.  Two of them retired police officers.

"I did use some favors and presented it to a friend who used to work in NYPD to have IAB look into it, but it looks like it went nowhere.  I don't think they ever found anything.  All I do know is that there are a lot of former and current cops who use the Gardens pretty exclusively throughout the year.  We've never had an issue there, because they stay within themselves and bring good money into the town."

Chris made better progress when he went over to Kingston Gardens.  He found the owners, Kevin Dobson and Tony Russo, both former New York City police officers.  Russo was a second cousin to DeLorenzo.  Both men happily spoke about their resort and offered Chris a membership, after he enamored them with his story about being a former Boston police officer, who now sold insurance after being injured on the job.  Chris continued his chameleon act when he continued about his Irish relatives who were police officers and who were always looking for places to vacation and save money.

After about an hour he was drinking a beer and smoking a cigar with them at their bar in the resort.  The men declined any need for his company's property insurance, but guaranteed that if he wanted to get a membership there away from his wife and kids, they could get some prostitutes on premises for the weekend, as well as any party favors, (the code word for illegal drugs) that he needed.

"We have tricks here to get guys past the Dole test in case they slip up while they're up here.  We know a couple guys down at Health Services who can give us a heads up on the list.  You can bang in sick for a week to clean yourself out and then take the test.  Believe you me, I was on the job and saw that Dole test coming up.  After 16 years, enough was enough and I vested out before they Doled me out.  We didn't know anyone back then with Health Services, but now we do.  And the police here will never, ever bother you when you join the resort.  The chief of police and his officers are as backward as the town of Mayberry and Deputy Barney Fife."

By 3:30 Chris and I were done and headed back down into the city, but the news out of the city wasn't good.  Darren was being harassed again by the police in the area, in particular members of DeLorenzo's Anti-Crime team.  He got pulled over for allegedly failing to signal when he drove back downtown on the lower west side.  They had been watching him talk to guys known for dealing drugs on the street, but who weren't carrying and Darren wasn't buying.  He was taken in and warned by Anti-Crime Sgt. Brennan for walking into known areas of drug dealings, carrying a loaded weapon.  Darren only responded,
"Okay, so that means that I don't walk anywhere?"

When we arrived at the precinct, Aliyah and Darren were just about to walk out.  Sgt. Brennan, came out and saw me, "Well look at who it is, the wannabe detective, who's nothing but the fearless leader of the rat pack."

"Yeah, yeah Brennan.  Maybe you should try being a cop one day, instead of being a criminal masquerading as one."

I wanted to say more, but when I turned I saw my cousin Alex Valentine, the Chief of Detectives, coming out of a side room.  Alex and I were about the same height, but he was 14 years older and a very distinguished looking Italian American man in his mid forties.  He had just been in a conference with Lt. Simmons.  Alex grabbed me by the arm and simply said, "Gio, let's talk outside."  Lt. Simmons also stepped in between and ordered Sgt. Brennan to go back upstairs to Anti-Crime.

"Hi Alex.  Nice to see you here.  Did we do anything wrong here?"

"Nope, not yet.  But let's talk about it, away from here."

The minute he said that, I started getting that tension in my neck and shoulders again.  It always came to me when I was a kid growing up, and when I was overseas in war.  It saved my bacon more times than I could remember.  So I always trusted it.

As soon as we got to the door, there was a group of three Hispanic males across the street.  As soon as we exited, one of them walked away and two of them walked into a dark BMW parked ahead.  I gave Darren and Alex the heads up eye contact that we were clearly being followed.  We told Aliyah to pretend like she forgot something and to walk back into the precinct with Darren since the Spanish men seemed only to be really eyeballing me.

My car was parked at the corner, behind Darren's.  Alex, Chris and I slowed down our walk as we could see the car trailing us.  It was too late to turn backwards and not necessary to go forward and involve a couple of news reporters camped out across the street still covering the "Cop Killer" story.  It was a moment in time that I had seen in combat overseas.  Time seemed slow, but things were actually moving very fast.  We stopped as the car sped up and they fired shots at us, but we ducked and returned fire immediately.  All three of us returned fire into the car at the two shooters in the back.

In that same moment, once Darren and Aliyah alerted the desk officer of what was about to happen, two sector cars came speeding down the wrong way of the street to cut the assailants car off.  Another car came from behind as additional police officers came out with guns drawn and opened fire on the vehicle.  With my name already reduced to mud at the precinct, I felt that all of this heroic police action was really to safeguard my cousin, Alex.  I could have been wrong.

Either way, in 43 seconds, it was all over.  Two suspects dead, one critically wounded and not likely to survive his wounds.  They would later be identified as Dominican hit-men hired by an unknown source, but thought to be hired by a member of the west side drug ring who didn't want me or my agency interfering with their power struggle.

So there I was, at the 14th precinct another 2 hours being interviewed by detectives.  What started out as a nice day, had quickly turned into a nightmare.  Linda had been calling me all day and now several more times as she saw the news report.  The reporters down the street captured everything.  Alex was adamant that after Chris and I were done being interviewed and our guns taken into evidence, he wanted time to speak to me outside of the precinct.  He was required to visit department psychiatrists since he was involved in the shooting.  However, he took us outside and spoke to us in an empty detectives car.

"Gio, this shooting thing is off the charts.  In all my years, I've drawn my gun a few times, but only had to pull the trigger twice.  I hang out with you just for five minutes and I'm in the middle of the L.A. shootout.  Listen, I know, you're good at what you do.  I know you sometimes can get sensitive information that other people may not be able to get access too.  But, you have to lay off the guys in this precinct.  What's about to go down here may be worse than what happened on the street here a couple hours ago."

"Alex, what are you saying.  They've got a kid in jail here who's probably innocent, and this precinct is filled with cops on the take, selling drugs and IAB isn't doing a damn thing - "

"Listen, the department is about to get a big black eye here soon.  Capt. Dunlap had me reach out to Lt. Simmons, he's clean, but he's done.  The Feds are involved and have been involved for months, before this DeLorenzo thing happened.  Heads are gonna roll, but they keep hearing your name come up on tapes.  The Feds want you to step away.  They were going to wait another week, but with DeLorenzo getting whacked, and now all of they hear is conversations about retaliation against you.  It's slowing down their normal operations and not revealing all the people involved."

"So did they whack DeLorenzo?"

"No."

"Do the Feds know who did?"

"No, not yet, but they have a pretty good idea.  So do we.  We just haven't made a move yet."

"Are you going to tell me who their lead is?"

"No.  Because you'll probably figure it all out before you go to bed tonight.  You always do."

I looked over at Chris, who remained silent throughout, "You believe this Chris?  See how family treats you?"

Alex shook his head, "Come on Gio, just step aside and let the Feds and police Chiefs here get their hands covered in this mess.  You don't want to be anywhere near this toilet bowl when it flushes."


It was already a little after 9 pm by the time, Darren, Chris and I got back into the office.  There was two patrol cars from my local precinct parked across the street.  Nicole and Marti stuck around, as they were very concerned for our well being.  We needed to meet together before our office wrap up in addition to them wanting to show me something that had been discovered by Noelle earlier in the day.

She handed me a year book from Francis Louis High School.  She got it from the school when she was looking into MacDaniels' background.  His sophomore year, was his last year at the high school.  He was on the varsity boys basketball team and was apparently very good.  There was a photo of him taking a foul shoot in a game...with his left hand.  There was also another photo of him being kissed by his girlfriend after the team won a game that went to double overtime.  The girl kissing him had a familiar face.  It was a young, Christina DeLorenzo, who maiden name back then was Canterino.

"Gio, I followed this up by locating a couple of former teammates and they confirmed that DaShawn 'Money' MacDaniel and Christina Canterino were an item during their freshman and sophomore years together at Francis Louis.  Some of his ex-teammates said that she had a fallout with her family after she continued to see him the following year when he moved to LeFrak.  She actually moved in with her aunt and uncle for a year before she finally broke off the relationship with him.  She went to Queens College for two years, before she took the police test and she was on the job by the time she was 22.  She met Anthony DeLorenzo on the job and was married a couple years later.  The rest is history."

"Yeah.  I would say so.  Especially when the police surveillance video showed DeLorenzo's hooded shooter coming out and holding the gun with his left hand."

"MacDaniels was clearly a lefty in high school."

"My God," Marti added in, "Gio, she's gotta be involved somehow?  Why else would Christina's former boyfriend end up partnering with a drug dealer that her husband wass stealing from?  MacDaniels wouldn't risk all of his success the past few years out of jealousy from an ex-girlfriend in high school?"

"Yeah, I know.  But why?  Was it money?  A divorce?  A bad marriage?"

None of us knew the answer at that moment.  But what I did know was that it was late for all of us.  It had been a very long day and would be a longer night for me, wondering if my home address had also been known to whoever hired the hit-men to kill me.  I told everyone to go home and that we would tackle everything first thing in the morning.

By the time I got home, Linda was finally able to reach me.  I had been pushing her calls, as well as calls from my father and uncle X.  All of their messages were very emotional and concerned about my safety.  I called them back starting with my father and uncle and kept it brief.  But, when I called Linda, she demanded that I do one of two things.  Either I got in a car she would have waiting at my door in ten minutes and come to her place to sleep, or she would be at my door in forty five minutes.

I didn't want anything to happen to her...or me for that matter.  A little less than an hour later, I was boarding the elevator to her apartment.  She was dressed in a robe, makeup slightly smeared from crying all evening worrying about me.  I tried to change the topic as I had noticed that she had a new picture hanging on her wall by the artist Antonella Mason, the same artist from the E Speakeasy restaurant and lounge.

**

"That's a beautiful picture, Linda.  I can tell that that is a town somewhere in Italy."

"Yes it is.  Thank you.  It's made by the same artist - "

"Yes, I can see that.  You know if this whole case is over by Monday, maybe we can go to Milan early next week?"

"No.  The exhibit opens this weekend and I promised a lot of people that I would be there for it's opening."  She paused for a minute.  "Gio, I have to go into the shower.  As you can see I'm a total wreck worrying about you."

She then walked further into the spacious apartment and into her bathroom.

"Gio, I have three bedrooms.  You can either sleep in one of the rooms that my niece and nephews use, or you can sleep on a king size bed with me?  But, if you choose to sleep with me in my bed, I can't say I will be able to control myself from groping you throughout the night."

"Ha, ha...okay.  Let's just say that I'm very interested in sleeping in your bed tonight."

She dropped her robe and entered her walk-in shower.

"Gio, well since you're going to sleep with me, would you mind jumping in this shower with me and helping me wash my hair?"

After seeing her undressed, it only took seconds for me to undress as well.  When I entered the shower, her back was to me.

"Here's your shampoo."

"Um...Gio, is that a shampoo bottle in your hand...or are you just happy to see me?"




**The photo of the painting by the artist Antonella Mason was printed with exclusive permission from the artist herself for this blog.

The Brooklyn Bridge: Spectacular Views!

If a picture is worth a thousand words...then I hope that the following pictures I took from the Brooklyn Bridge will be worth a million words.  Enjoy!

When I was in my early and mid teens, walking across the Brooklyn Bridge to visit people I knew who were bused in from the other side wasn't really an option.  There was a bit of territorial rivalry between those of us who lived on the Delancy (Manhattan) side and those of us who lived on the Williamsburg (Brooklyn) side.

On this day, this trip my trip over the Brooklyn Bridge became sort of a walk back through time, as well as a walk into the future.  My memories of the other side of the Brooklyn bridge being home to urban blight (even more than my Manhattan side, which was no bargain either) started to fade away as I started to approach the hoards of people walking across the bridge.

There were people from all walks of life on the bridge.  There were bicyclists, runners, walkers, workers, students, families, foreigners as well as natives - there was all walks of life crossing.  There was a culture on the bridge.  You could buy yourself water at several points.  People like me who stopped to take pictures.  Some who just kept walking.

To go along with this culture that crossed the bridge was of course the spectacular views from the bridge.  To those that crossed this bridge everyday, it wasn't really a big deal.  But for those of us who had never crossed this bridge by foot and only by bus or car (or only by subway) it was a great moment to actually be able to stop and take in and enjoy the beauty of New York City.  This bridge was constructed between 1869 and 1883.

It take a lot of ingenuity and idealism to build a bridge such as this.  It is a shame that more people do not take the time to continue to build such bridges within our minds, our cultures and our ideologies.  There always still has to be someone thinking about war, destruction and senseless murder.  Yet when we turn that unnecessary and negative energy into positive energy - when we focus our minds on building and blending...we can achieve so much, much more.  We can build things that last for a millennium.

 

Between two Boroughs, between two different parts of the city that use to fight among each other, now there exits a life and culture of more tolerance and economic opportunity for all who cross either side.  Where there was once urban blight on both sides, there is now enormous urbane growth and sprawling downtown areas - on both sides!  Even when crushed by fear and evil, positive energy and life still pushes through.

And so I crossed the bridge this day.  But it wasn't just a bridge that I crossed, it was the future that I walked into.  The unbelievably bright future of the "new" Brooklyn...

To be continued....

In 48 Hours...Part 4 To The Private iTeam

The Private iTeam...is a hit!  Just 3 posts and over 2000 hits...more than double my monthly reader average. Your response to my "Cop Killer" story and it's main characters has spoken volumes.  I was going to delay the publication of yet another one of the stories I have written for these characters, but your response to them has been overwhelming.  I will not delay.

So stay tuned because in another 48 hours, part 4 will be published, and will feature some of the sensational and graphically expressive art of international artist, Antonella Mason.  Her work truly captures a moment in time.  From the first time I observed her artwork online, I knew that her style would fit so well with type of story telling that I am continually aspiring to tell.  I cannot immediately think of any other artist whose layers in a single illustration capture the vision, mood, energy and stories of New York City.  New York - let's show some love!!

For my friends who haven't seen her work yet, please do click on her link and visit her site.  I'm taking a day trip into NYC, with plans to put together part 4 of "Cop Killer" while walking the city streets and crossing the Brooklyn Bridge.  So stay tuned and hold onto your seats.  Part 4 of "Cop Killer" is going to take you for a ride!

Update 4/22/13 8:55am...today's weather is overcast and cold in the 40's.  I'm going to postpone walking the Brooklyn bridge until tomorrow.  So today's time will be devoted to my writings for all of you!

We Are All Connected

Outside the Time Warner Building at the Columbus Circle of East 59st in New York City, there is this symbolic statue of the planet earth, the continents and circular objects (probably the symbol of satellites) circling the planet.  When I was child growing up in the 1970's, when someone went away on a trip and took pictures, you probably didn't see those pictures until months later.  A long distance call to relatives in Virginia, Florida, North and South Carolina sounded a little bit better than the televised, live communications we had with American astronauts on the Moon.

But that's all changed today.  Today we can just power on our electronic devices and reach out to family, friends and even strangers across the world.  All it takes is just one or two clicks.  Since the mid 90's I have used the electronic world to communicate with people from around the world.  People around the world are similar in some ways to the people I grew up with in New York City.  No matter the color, the height, language, culture, the shape or the weight...people are people.  Some of us gravitate to the positive things in life, and some of us gravitate to the negative things in life.  But, never the less, people are people.  Humanity left untouched or undaunted by the negatives, is a beautiful thing.

There are universal things that matter to all of us around the world.  The positive aspects of music, humor, love and family are always out there for us to aspire towards.  When we embrace positive and beautiful things and ideas, our world becomes a better place for everyone.  In spite of the behavior of the actions of a few, small thinking individuals, we must not allow the progression of humankind be slowed or stopped by them.  Although there may be times when we just sit on the sidelines and watch the powers that be duke it out for control of the world, there are also times when we must step in and choose a side.  The side that will most benefit mankind and human progress.  And then, with all of our might, our love and our hope for generations to come after us...we push.  We must trust the good souls with our dreams...

An Emotional Detour Before I Continue With Private iTeam

An Emotional Detour...

First I'd like to welcome and thank many of the new people who might be reading my blog this month.  I hope you will continue to visit and that I can either share some form of insight or entertainment (or both) through my fictional and non-fictional, life stories.  If there's any one thing that can be said, it is that I try to share...share laughs, knowledge, insight, hope and love through all that you see here.

For those who've been reading and following me...you already know the relationship I have with people in the New England states, and more specifically the greater Boston area.  For those who aren't sure...you can go back and read my "He Was A Cowboy Alright...But Darling Was His Name" real life story.  Also for my newer readers, you can read "The Family Texas Road Trip" or "Never Mix Your Neighbors..." for additional real life stories from me.  

So here's my real life, emotional detour from Private iTeam...the devastating bombing attack in Boston, MA.  I've had many friends over who have participated in marathons, including the NYC and Boston marathons.  I  also have a ton of high school and college friends from the Boston area.  Many of whom I still speak with.  So far, I don't directly know anyone that has been maimed or killed.  However, the numbers of announced injuries as a result of this tragedy are staggering.  25 to 30 people receiving amputation type injuries.  17 critically injured.  3 dead, including an 8 year old boy holding a banner for his father at the finish line.  Hundreds more with minor injuries.

In the 21st century, with all of these recent advances in technology, people now have this tremendous opportunity to communicate and share opposing political thoughts to millions across the world in an instant.  Yet why are some of us still turning to these barbaric forms of expression?  As of yet, no one has taken credit for this horrific murder scheme.  Making bombs takes some know how and intelligence.  What a waste of both...just to murder.  That intelligence should instead be combined with other intelligent people to figure out ways to help various countries with job creation and manufacturing alternate forms of fuel resources.  Maybe even make some money out of it for yourself.  Nope.  Instead, someone one or group of individuals chose to use that intelligence to kill.  How small.  So very, very small.  Smaller men, have made millions, with even less than this.  

No one will see this individual or individuals as a political ally.  Just a murderer of innocents.

Marathons represent man's ability to overcome great odds.  Even as my neighbors, friends, extended families in the greater Boston area suffer this tragedy...overtime they will endure.  They will come back just as New York has come back from multiple bombing attacks before and since 9/11.  Instead of weakening people's spirits, this/these murderers will only succeed in galvanizing people's resolve to thwart these murderous individuals in the long run.

We can be critical of our government for a lot of things.  But one thing is for certain, no matter the president, the governor or mayor...our federal and local governments happen to employ people who can find and capture terrorists overseas and within our own shores with only the slimmest of information.  They employ people who can drag pieces of a destroyed jet liner from the bottom of the ocean and meticulously put it back together in a hanger down to the last fragments.  These types of people will not waiver.  They will not quit...and they now have been extremely motivated to find you.  Whether it takes them a day, a year, or a decade, they will be on the job day and night to its completion.  Soon enough, the people or person behind this will be "next" on a list of captured murderers.

As for the rest of us, we need to continue to use the positive power of our voice and our intelligence to dissuade such ignorant, wasteful and murderous behavior.  There are dozens of  positive ways to stop oppression, make a point and change the world.  Murder is not the way.  We should be evolving from that type of thinking, not turning back towards it.  That 8 year old boy was no one's enemy.  Just a kid cheerleader for his dad.

The picture below is not mine.  I found it on a Google search.  I'm sure most New Yorkers are with me on it's overall message.  I hope you will all join New Yorkers in prayers to those families affected by this heinous act.