A few minutes later Joseph appeared. He smiled when he saw her. “So, you knew I was coming,” he said. “I’m just hoping we don’t end up in a cemetery somewhere with my name on a headstone,” she said lightly. His smile faded. “Actually, we are going to a cemetery, but your name won’t be on the headstone.” He reached out, touched her hand and in an instant they were standing in a cemetery next to the Catholic Church and school Jose had attended when he was younger. Mary walked slowly through the snow to a freshly covered plot. “How did he get here?” she wondered aloud. “How did he get from caring little boy to gang member?” “Does it matter?” Joseph asked. “Wouldn’t those just be extenuating circumstances, which really don’t count in a court of law?” Mary closed her eyes in shame and felt the harshness of her own words. “Yes, it does matter,” she whispered and then she opened her eyes and turned to him. “Are you going to show me? Are you going to let me see what happened and why he made the choices he made?”
