Oh wow!! That's horrible man I'm sorry to hear that...
You should share the stories with us if it doesn't make you feel rough. I assume your friend actually died under the ice?
Yes, he never made it. It was still early in winter so the ice was nowhere's near thick enough, but you know, when you're ten, you're also bulletproof and invincible... but we were small and figured it would've held us. We weren't more than 20 ft from the shoreline, and he literally went under in seconds, kinda just vanished right before my eyes. I stuck my arm in to try to grab him, and I remember it was like being stabbed with hundreds of needles, it hurt so bad. I couldn't reach anything or even see him. I ran to the shoreline and grabbed a big stick thinking I could at least stick it in the hole. When I turned to go back out, I took three or four steps and went through myself. I was only up to my waist, but I couldn't climb out because it literally hurt and the ice was breaking when I tried. My younger brother and Mikey and Martin pulled me out with the stick. I was frozen and got sick as hell... still didn't stop my father from giving me an ass-whoopin' that night when he got home from work.
Sergio was completely blue when they found him and pulled him out. I can still remember how queasy I felt when I first saw him. I've never spoken to his mother since, I don't know if she blamed me or hates the fact it was her son instead of me.
When my mother arrived she saw me and started bawling. I felt horrible, because I knew it was my own pure stupidity but I never really understood how badly I hurt her until I became a parent myself. It's a cardinal rule in our house, my kids aren't allowed anywhere near the lakes until I give them the go ahead.
Can't believe how fast it happened.
As for Paul getting shot... there were literally two dozen people at my buddy's mother's house. She was gone all the time, she was a drunk and would be with whoever was going to get her drunk. It was pretty much our apartment. She would come home once a week or so to get clean clothes and shit, but pretty much f*ck off again.
Paul had been arrested the night before, he had gotten picked up during a break and enter. He wasn't part of the close circle of friends, but wanted to be... kind of like a prospect of sorts. Regardless, he was released on his own recognizance, which is fairly common around here. To this day, never really understood either of the two conflicting stories which floated around.... one of them being Paul owed Dwayne (description to come) $75, and the other was Paul ratting out Dwayne (no idea what for though).
Now, Dwayne was (and still is) a complete sociopath. Can't fight worth shit (with his hands and feet), but has done so much cocaine and acid he's completely f*cked. He'll use anything he can get his hands on as a weapon, and wouldn't think twice about stabbing you whether it's a pencil, screwdriver, or knife. He could take a beating like I've never seen ever from anyone else. I've seen three guys beat him with a bat, a tennis racquet, and a pipe and he just wouldn't go out cold. Half the hair on his head was ripped out in that beatdown, his jaw and nose were broken and he still kept coming for more.
At Ernie's apartment, I was told to clear out the apartment and clean up because Ernie was expecting his mother home soon. He went down to the courthouse to get Paul. Dwayne happened to show up, and Ernie showed up with Paul not long after. I didn't know anything about the issues between the two of them until after the fact. Dwayne and Paul went into Ernie's mother's bedroom to talk sh*t out. There was no yelling or banging, no fighting... it was quiet.
A few minutes later, three of Dwayne's buddies showed up, and went into the bedroom. I knew the three, and they all had somewhat of a reputation for being muscle and tough cats. The door closed, and seconds later I heard the gunshot (I was at the kitchen table). The three tough guys scrambled to get the f*ck out of there and I could see the look of sheer terror on their faces. I remember the guy in the lead saying "You're a fucking idiot, you're not getting in my car!" and they ran. (That guy has since died at a party I was at, overdosed on a mix of 'roids and ecstasy, it was heart failure).
I sat at the kitchen table as tense as piano wire, not knowing what was going to happen next. Dwayne left (I truly expected him to take a shot at me on the way out, thankfully he didn't). I couldn't not go look. Ernie and I went into the bedroom to see, Paul was slumped over the dresser, there was brain matter and blood everywhere. There was a huge pool of blood on top of the dresser, and pouring down the side of it. Ernie lost it, and ran out of the apartment. I was in shock I think, I grabbed a shirt that was on the floor, and held it to his head. I was lost, and can honestly say it was the first time in my whole life, I didn't know what to do. I reached for Rita's phone and called another one of my friends who lived 30 seconds away and I told him. He came to the apartment and called the police. To this day, Ted will always be a great friend, because if the roles were reversed, I don't know if I would have the stones to walk into a situation like that.
To make matters worse, one of the first officers to arrive on scene was my uncle, who was head of the Ident division, and there I am, just coated in blood and in a daze. I was arrested immediately and taken to the police dept. The were going to charge me as an accessory after the fact, because I wasn't willing to give a statement right away. I just wanted to be alone, but not in an interrogation room. I remember one cop walking into the room at 1:30 in the morning, all smug with a smirk on his face saying "Btw, they just pronounced your friend dead, just thought you'd like to know", and turned around and walked out. It was about 3am when they finally gave me a phone... and I called my father. I broke when he showed up, and they actually let him into the interrogation room to see me, and I'm pretty sure my uncle had a hand in that happening. I finally gave a statement at about 6am, and they released me, still covered in blood.
I went to my parents house, I wasn't living with them, and got cleaned up and passed out. I can remember almost every single detail of that day, and for a long time (and I mean years) , I smoked pot from morning to night and if I was lucky enough, I'd get so high every day, I would just pass out and not have any dreams at all.
I had no idea it was going to happen, and granted I've done enough wrong in my life to make up for several people, but if I knew that was actually going to happen, I wouldn't have been anywhere near that apartment. If I could go back in time and do it all over again... well, hindsight's always 20/20.
The detectives even told me back then... Dwayne will probably come for you when he gets out, and if he does, just be prepared. If you have to kill him to protect yourself, make sure you do and don't wait for us to show up for help. By the age of 17, Dwayne had literally racked up over a hundred criminal charges and was institutionalized since the age of 9.
I'll never forget that day, or the following days. I don't blame the cops at all for their treatment of me during the several times I spent in custody as a result of the ongoing investigation, they were just doing their job. I hate the fact it took an incident like that to happen to kickstart me into getting my sh*t together.
I've posted in threads before that have been pot-related, and claimed to smoke daily what most other posters believe to be an unreasonable and impossible amount. For what it's worth, I've spent many, many years growing it, selling it, and growing and selling clones. I would be high all day every day... and I did this for years and years. It was a mask and I was self-medicating. Mainly because there were incidents in my life that I'd just rather not remember, and this way my way of doing it.
There are those that say pot is harmless and has never hurt anyone. I can honestly say I disagree, only because of the shit I've seen behind the scenes. Sure, no one has died from smoking a joint. But behind all that business, there's an underbelly where people do get hurt, sometimes very seriously. Call it whatever you want, but this shit is the truth. I've been clean for seven years now, quit cold turkey, and ended up having to deal with a psychologist to cope and deal with things. I didn't want to see a psychiatrist and end up hopped up on pills. It was hard, but I made it. Respectable job, great wife and kids, I'm in a great place.
And I think I went way overboard here, lmao. Sorry guys. I hate telling half a story and using selective details.