Debbie Roth

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I stretched my neck to look over the dashboard to see Dad hurl the turtle onto a tree stump. One man handed Dad a gun. All the men walked a few steps behind Dad as he fired the first shot. The turtle’s shell shattered, pieces flying in the air. Dad tossed the gun to the next man. When he took his shot, the turtle split. I opened the truck door and screamed, begging them to stop.
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