It was my grandparents, my father, my brothers and sisters, my mother, some of her brothers and sisters and I chatting while we waited for the last ones to leave drunks who didn't get the memo. Later we were interrupted by a young man, he came running frantically, struggling to speak and breathing shallowly. I remember it was cold that night and even I had chills, but as soon as he told us what the problem was, the cold was so insignificant at that point that I didn't feel it anymore. It was hard to understand what he was trying to say, but apparently there was a man about to die. My father and two of my uncles followed the boy behind the house and over a thigh-high rock wall. We remained confused and helpless while waiting for clarification. My uncle, Angel, looked back at him with his face full of fear, his hands were shaking, he was on the verge of tears and his voice was shaking with every word he spoke. It was as if I could feel his emotions as my heart rate rapidly increased. Angel explained what the boy had tried to tell us, but in more detail. The man had been beaten and stabbed, his face was