“We are gathered here today in remembrance of the life of Jeff Withey, a life which was tragically cut short in an act of senseless and random violence on the night of November the 12th…”
Suzanne Withey let out a harsh sob. Her husband, Dave, patted her consolingly on the shoulder, but he, too, was in tears. Their beautiful son, only 23 years old and with a full life ahead of him, now lay dead in the casket before them. The pastor’s words washed over them, unheard, as they struggled to find their way out of a dense fog of grief.
The pastor looked upon the assembled throng with a solemn expression. “Would anybody care to speak a few words?” There was a sustained pause where the only sound that could be heard was the soft crying of Jeff’s mother.
“I would like to say something,” came a voice from the back. Heads turned to see who was volunteering, expecting perhaps a teammate or coach, but when they saw the speaker’s true identity, there was a collective gasp.
Xavier Henry walked up to the pulpit. “Out of my way, ” he said to the reluctant pastor, who refused to give up his spot at the microphone. “I said, OUT OF MY WAY!” Xavier yelled, throwing a punch which connected cleanly with the pastor’s jaw. With that obstacle eliminated, Xavier began to speak.
“What an ironic situation we find ourselves in,” Xavier began. “Despite my so-called ‘heinous’ act, I remain a free man, while Jeff is imprisoned in the coldness of Death himself, an icebound prison from which escape is impossible. While his body slowly decompos-”
“MURDERER!” wailed Jeff’s mother. “YOU KILLED MY BABY, YOU COWARD!”
Xavier laughed brazenly. “Your son took the bitches’ way out. He was trying to take the charge. He made no attempt to contest the shot. And I made him pay. Oh, did I ever make him pay. Your son was the true coward.”
Speech finished, Xavier stepped down from the pulpit. All watched in horror as he approached the casket which contained Jeff’s body and tipped it off its stand, causing the corpse to roll out upon the floor.
Jeff, in his death, looked much like he did in life. The only difference was the grimace of terror which contorted his mouth. Xavier now addressed the body.
“Dunk. Of. The. Year.”