Although the writing was on the wall, Karen had felt she had done an excellent job raising Donte.
She knew he was involved in something.
She remained silent when he started wearing expensive clothes.
Donte had chosen a lifestyle that horrified his mother.
Besides all the tattoos and his obsession with guns, Karen heard from neighbors that traffic was coming from her basement until dawn.
Donte lives in her basement.
She turned her head when he flashed his money.
The single parent refused to entertain thoughts of her son selling drugs from her house.
It was beyond her imagination when reality couldn’t get any worse than it already was.
She found the bloody clothes and gun behind the furnace.
The next morning she called the police.
Donte was woke from his sleep and arrested for murder.
While sitting across from his mother in jail he asked her with tears in his eyes,
“How could you call the police on your only child?”
She replied, “It’s a lot easier for me to visit you every week in jail than to take one trip to the cemetery.”
There comes a time when we must do what’s right. Loving someone is different from pleasing someone.