“Don’t do this, Dad, please.
You’re drunk. Just put the gun
away.”
Abel looked down at his son.
“No,” he said. “I’m killing
everybody, and if you don’t walk
away I will shoot you first.”
Andrew stepped aside.
“His eyes were not lying,” he
told me. “He had the eyes of the
Devil. In that moment I could tell
my father was gone.”
For all the pain I felt that day,
in hindsight, I have to imagine that
Andrew’s pain was far greater than
mine. My mom had been shot by a
man I despised. If anything, I felt