Andreas Dresp
19 Years Old

January 24, 1970 to June 11, 1989

I stumble through dense, thorny, tangled darkness; tripping over heavy rocks.
Thorns are pricking my skin.
Where are you, Andreas!?
Where did you go?
I don’t leave a single stone that reflects light unturned.
I gaze at each corner, at each straight road, at open spaces, closed buildings, closed rooms, every where on which Andreas’ feet stepped.
I touch the warm concrete, the damp earth, the ticklish grass he walked on.
What did he feel that he will never feel again on this earth?
What is it I will never again see, hear, nor feel in his midst?
I stare at his brother’s earlobe to see his in him.

My ears absorb every sound of his friends’ words as they tell me when Andreas laughed or had been mad at them.
I cling to their stories as a rock climber clings to the edge of the rock.
I replay the images of their stories in my interior screen as often as I can to bring Andreas back.
I gaze at Andreas’ friends’ hairdos, their clothes, their manners, especially that of his best friend’s since they shared some of them among each other.
I clutch on to each piece of his clothing, to his last pillowcase on which a few strains of his hair still cling.
I especially hold tight his pink, short-sleeved shirt he so often wore when going out to meet the girls.
I tie his thick, woven, golden necklace, with the eagle on it, around my neck so that remnants of his sweat will mingle with mine.

CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE MURDER

Andreas was 19 years old when a group of young men bearing crowbars, sticks, bottles and one with a knife, attacked him and his friends.

They, Andreas’ friends, had made the mistake of answering an invitation from a girl of the neighboring city to come visit with her on the playground. This escalated to both groups getting more friends and at around 1AM, the city group had as a leader, a known troublemaker who had issues with the law. His friend, also a young man with a troubled background, freshman in college, just like our son, carried a knife from his friend’s home.

Unfortunately, Andreas tried to stop the attack and was stabbed once. The knife broke in half, then the 19 year old murderer beat our son’s head with a baseball bat.

Our sweet son Andreas died hours later in the hospital.

The murderer still denies he did it.

His sentence was Second-Degree Murder...it should have been First-Degree Murder.

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Andreas Dresp