This boy will never cry over a scraped knee, never laugh until he can't breathe at some stupid joke, never feel the terror and thrill of asking someone out, never know the ache of a first breakup or the warmth of real love. No prom. No clumsy first kiss. No wedding vows. No, holding his own child and realizing, for a split second, what his parents felt the moment he was born. The uniform doesn't make it righteous. The badge doesn't make the blood disappear. And no amount of "thoughts and fucking prayers" or blue-line fundraisers will bring back the future they blew apart in under ten seconds of panic and poor judgment.
Kohen Wiley, I am so sorry, baby boy.