I may have been twelve or thirteen when it happened, but I can remember it like it was just yesterday. I lived with my grandmother, my aunt, two cousins, and my mom. I was in bed when I heard the telephone ring one night. IÃÂm not a very light sleeper, so it came as a surprise that I immediately woke up. I suddenly got the feeling that something was terribly wrong and awaited news of sadness. My older cousin, Dion, dashed through the hallway into my grandmotherÃÂs room. I couldnÃÂt hear what he was saying to her so I got up. He gave my grandmother the telephone and she began speaking to someone on the other end.
ÃÂWhat?ÃÂ my grandmother asked, sounding surprised. ÃÂCraig? Craig get shoot?ÃÂ she said.
Soon after, my mother joined Dion in my grandmotherÃÂs room and they began talking. I, however, was still in shock at my grandmotherÃÂs words.
I couldnÃÂt believe that he was shot. Nothing like this had ever happened before in my family. All I could do was hope that he wasnÃÂt dead. My grandmother then hung up the phone and began telling my mother and cousin that Craig was shot outside of the restaurant in front of MelÃÂs house. At that moment we all got ready and left for MelÃÂs house, which was about ten minutes away.
Because East Street is an area where there is something always going on, there were people everywhere, as well as police officers. We pulled into the yard and soon met up with family who had been there and witnessed the shooting. My grandaunt, CraigÃÂs brothers and sisters, and other close relatives were crying. I felt for my grandaunt because I could only imagine the pain she was feeling about her son.