This is the last week of our summer program. I asked the boys how they felt about the program ending. They sat silently with their heads hung low. [more]

An unmarked police cruiser waited for me in the church parking lot.

Two officers walked toward me. I knew them. We worked together.

Still, this was unexpected. [more]

Part of our summer program includes hiring a “handyman.” The handyman’s role is to be a liaison between the staff and our program participants. Preferably, the handyman is a former — and reformed — gang member.

Yesterday we interviewed a young man.

He finished my sentences.

I asked, “Why do you want this—”

“Job?” he said.

“What qualifies you to work­­—”

“With gang members?” he said.

“I’m certified. I’ve been a gunman since my youth.” He paused. “On the streets, my reputation speaks for itself.” [more]

My phone vibrated while I listened to a panelist talk about youth violence and policy with a group of political progressives.

I looked at the phone. It was one of the boys.

I texted. “In meeting. Can’t answer. If you want community service hours go to church at 8-9 pm and sit in youth group meeting. I will not be there. I will be late. But my husband is expecting you all.”

He wrote, “Wat happen.”

“Do you want to do some community service,” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Alright, go to the church at 8. I will be late. But my husband--” [more]

A young man wearing a black leather jacket, baggy blue jeans, and a tear-drop tattoo under his right eye stood next to me in line at the local Dunkin Donuts. He asked for the manager.

The manager arrived, still tense from having just kicked out a drunk, “How can I help you?”

The young man replied, “I haven’t heard from you and I wanted to check in.”

Nothing.

“Do you remember me?” he asked. “I filled out a job application.” [more]