My Sister Visited by Death.

The little cowtown in which I was raised had a City Marshal, he was pretty layed back and generally a good man. He had one son who was a star football player, who later received a full ride track scholarship as a distance runner. The other son whose name was Santos was another story.

This kid was a bully of the first magnitude, and I had fought him once in high school and lost. He was a gifted boxer who won many amateur bouts, but sadly he used his skills to further his bullying.

My sister who is just three years younger than me is a beautiful and accomplished woman today, attending nursing school and becoming a registered nurse in her late fifties. While she was a senior in high school she dated a tall cowboy from Dalhart, Texas who drove the one hundred or so miles from his home to see my sister and take her out.

One weekend they had a date to attend the dance held at the school gymnasium, which is quite a festive occasion. Everyone comes to the dance, drinking is discouraged, but everyone has a nip or two and generally it is quite peaceful except for the occasional disagreement and short bout of fisticuffs that inevitably follows, but ends quickly.

My sister and her boyfriend were having a great time dancing, when he accidentally stepped on the toe of the bully Santos. The cowboy wanted no problems, and apologized to Santos profusely, but Santos was drunk and looking for a fight and so he took a swing at the cowboy and hit him in the face.

This was a mistake because the cowboy was a big, tough man. In the fight that ensued Santos the bully was whipped badly, the first time that anyone had whipped him ever before in a fight. He should have taken the licking and went home, but instead he pulled himself up off of the floor and told the cowboy that he was going to kill him.

My sister and her boyfriend just laughed it off thinking that it was just the druken boast of s drunk, but sadly this was not the case. After the dance was over and they were walking arm in arm to the cowboy's pickup truck parked in the parking lot, Santos showed up with a high powered rifle.

My sister said Santos said, "I told you I was going to kill you!", then Santos shot the cowboy through the neck, he fell screaming to the asphalt and he bled to death in the arms of my horrified, sobbing sister before help could arrive. If help had arrived nothing could have been done to save his life. Needless to say the trauma of that night haunts my sister to this day.

Santos ran away from town and hid for almost six months in the wilds of the Canadian River gorge with family members, successfully eluding the massive man hunt organized to find him. He later surrendered to authorities and was tried for the crime of second degree murder, a crime committed in the throes of passion, and was acquitted by a jury that was made up mostly of distant relatives.

Some times the legal system doesn't work as it is intended, but I believe there is a higher judge.