A Scared Little Kid

Yesterday as the manhunt was on for the second of the Boston marathon suspects, I kept seeing not the face of an armed and dangerous criminal, but a boy.

When his hiding place was finally revealed, it appeared that every law enforcement officer, swat team, and FBI agent in the country was on the scene, closing in on the suspect who had taken refuge in a boat.   Huddled under that tarp,  I kept thinking, was a very scared boy, one who had been deceived, one who never expected it to come to this.  A helicopter hovered overhead.  A battalion aimed their guns at his refuge.  It didn't look hopeful he would come out of this alive.  And then, a negotiator arrived on the scene.

And when he was captured, there emerged from the boat, not a monster, but a young frail-looking injured boy.  I have been heartsick all week for what happened on Monday.  I was heartsick last night by the sight of a young life so clearly deceived, so incredibly gone astray, someone's baby boy, and what could have been.