Frank (bp coyle)

We loved Uncle Frank, Mom’s youngest brother. He spent time with us when he was around. He could play football for hours, not like Dad who got sweaty and breathless after ten minutes and needed a beer. He talked to us like we were real people. He was the one we went to for advice.

It was such a shock to see him on TV, national news. His house surrounded by cop car, FBI, NSA,… you name it, they were there. You probably saw it yourself, going out live. All of the country saw it. A five hour stand-off before he was dragged out, hands cuffed behind his back. Head pushed low.

They claimed he was mixed up with some left wing extremists. A threat to National Security. He pleaded guilty on the advice of his lawyers, though he told us he had done nothing wrong. He told us in the letter he sent.

They gave him twenty years in maximum security.

I know I should visit him. He’d come to any of us if the situation was reversed. He’d come and not care what anyone thought.

I care, I could lose my job, my reputation.

I’m not brave.

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