Twenty-twenty hind sight; it is most difficult  to scope my flaws since I am certainly not blind. Suffering false accusations and ridicule at MSC-Shelter, should  I tell: I sought to change my mind. God intervened. My heavenly creator knows too well how people can be mean. I am weeping internally, the torment is killing me then I notice the traffic light: Red, yellow and green. I am in front of Grace Cathedral Episcopal Church between Taylor & Jones street. Yahweh’s holy hands guide me to Rev. Vanessa that I should meet.

Hasanni Campbell, Hasanni Campbell, I want to bring him home! Over and over, again and again, I view the information I wrote on a map. Rev. Vanessa was patient, kind and non-judgemental as she grasp my shaking hands on my lap. Although she and her superior offered legal counsel: I instantly thought of Oscar Grant, Oscar Grant! “You are white and I am black”, I thought to myself muffling my anger in a rant. I gave her the information then I ran! A year later, I am in a store, I stop to read Hasanni Campbell’s year anniversary of being missing while I drink from my soda can.

I should of stayed and pointed out the location of Hasanni Campbell. Deep regrets of not taking Rev. Vanessa assistance of legal counsel cause the water to over flow from my profound well. I can not make anymore mistakes! Despite my bad reputation and society believing I am fake; I call on Jesus because I am seriously afraid of the high stakes. I reach out to Det. Jamie Collins and Inspector Larry Mack. I wanted to informed them how Leah Toby Roberts was attacked.

Then, all of the sudden I picked up on Kyron Hormon. Liz, a staff member from Las Positas College spoke to me as spiritual adviser: I realize I had to heed her sermon. I was about to divulge Kyron’s location to Inspector Mack. Yet, my gut warned me of the female detectives: I choose to avoid the police car and sitting in the back. I failed with Det. Jamie Collins and Inspector Larry Mack. They didn’t agree to my terms so, I put all the information in my back pack. It is so frustrating, disappointing and sad. It seems the criminals always win, riding high, free and cool fads.

What about the victims, what about the victim’s families: Do they not count? I am not interested in capitalizing on anyone afflictions: I don’t want your stinking money who cares about your outrageous amount! I am doing this for God, not you! I am telling you, I could smell blood types: Angela Michele Lawless is blood type A+, Michele Ann Harris is blood type AB+, Hasanni Campbell is blood type B+ and Kyron Hormon is blood type A+; please try to digest while you chew. I could find them! I could find them! It is simple like the sun’s rays to plants building chlorophyll from the roots to the stem.

Now, I am going to reach out to a district attorney. I have a bad reputation, I am afraid still I have to be me. I crave to tell him, “I am employed, living in a house–no longer homeless and a straight A student”, unfortunately I only have the truth buried in my sturdy tree. Will this district attorney, hear me? Will this district attorney, aide me?  “I can find them!”, I shrill out my orifice.  Will my truth be enough for this district attorney office?