In 1925, my uncle, Samuel Rulon Foster, was walking along railroad tracks near his home in Clementon, New Jersey. He was on his way to town at 4 p.m. to pick up his newspapers for delivery. Along the way, he was shot in the head by a rifle bullet by a person or persons unknown.
The gunshot wound did not kill him that day. He was conscious after being shot. He told how he heard rustling in the brush and turned to see and was shot as he turned. No one was ever charged, and to this day it is a mystery why he was shot or who shot him. He died one month later of sepsis. His parents never got over losing their oldest son. His siblings never forgot Sam. He was 11 years old.