Electronic Kill Machine

Dark Christmas

It was near 11:00 PM on December 19—a somber night, essentially, in Quincy, and the rest of the nation. The tragedy of September 11 was still weighing heavily on peoples' minds. Yes, for Christians, celebrating the birth of Christ probably meant more this year than it had in years past; but that pall, that emotional rape the terrorists had committed, was still hanging there, affecting people in the most unpardonable of ways.

Quincy, MA Police Department Patch

The Quincy Police Department received a call that night from Anthony. Marina was dead, he said. She had fallen down the stairs—at least that's what it looked like. Perhaps she had tried to carry a bag of trash down the narrow, steep flight of stairs inside the house and somehow tripped. Being in her mid-eighties, well, the fall had been too much on her fragile body.

Anthony said over the phone that he and Lally had found Marina at the base of the stairs.

"She's dead."

It was that simple. That direct. He couldn't believe it.

Anthony was beyond upset, those who knew him confirmed later. He walked around in a haze in the days that followed. His great aunt, the one woman who had rescued him from the streets and his broken home, had fallen and died.

He wasn't there to stop it.

He wasn't there to help Marina when she needed him most.