He thought about a third-grader named Zeke getting pulled out of school by a social worker. What had the first few days of being orphaned been like for him? Was he racked with gut-searing grief? Or was he still lost in the concussive aftermath of shock, his mind mercifully holding reality at bay, letting it seep in a drop at a time? This would become his story now: When I was eight, my parents were murdered.
