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<p>[QUOTE=&quot;lucyray, post: 1116315, member: 24565&quot;]Dear Speedy,</p><p>I am sorry to read of your recent experience.&nbsp; I&#039;m sure it has put you in a spot where you may have had to re-think a few things..</p><p><br /></p><p>Please forgive me it what follows is not appropriate or too personal, but I have thought about this since last night, and feel compelled to share with you this story:</p><p><br /></p><p>When I was 18 1/2 I buried my older brother, to an overdose of drugs.&nbsp; Not more than 2 months prior to his death, I had been approached by police officers to try to get me to work with them so that they could prevent his eventual death.&nbsp; They wanted me to do the undercover thing with them, introducing one as my &#039;boyfriend&#039; etc.. I was too afraid to do that for my brother; it would have caused such problems for me, I was embarrassed that he was addicted to drugs (I was a goody two shoes myself).&nbsp; I loved my brother and thought that I COULD HELP him best by not letting them do what they wanted.&nbsp; Of course, they were after a much larger &#039;fish&#039;.&nbsp; I thought very incorrectly, because of my own fear of &#039;rocking the boat&#039;, and my fear of what would happen when everyone found out.</p><p><br /></p><p>Two months later, I received a phone call from my father in the middle of the night, that my brother, whom I loved, whom I trusted, whom I always knew would always be there for me, was dead of an overdose.&nbsp; I did not see my father sober after that for 4 years.&nbsp; Literally.&nbsp; I chose my brothers&#039; casket, purchased clothing for him, contacted every living person that I thought needed to know, and then I committed to pay for the funeral, which took me three years to pay off.&nbsp; Our mother died at my birth, so it was just my father and I..</p><p><br /></p><p>I never shed a tear.&nbsp; My guilt so great.</p><p><br /></p><p>To this day I regret very much not turning my brother in.&nbsp; To this day my father does not know that I was in that police station in Detroit, 16th precinct, many times, meeting about my brother, and in the end I wussed out.</p><p><br /></p><p>I hope you get my message out of this.&nbsp; Painful to remember, painful to think about.</p><p><br /></p><p>Jimmy was his name.&nbsp; He was 21 at his death.</p><p><br /></p><p>Regards,</p><p>Lucy (Linda)[/QUOTE]</p><p><br /></p>

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