June 12, 2019 was the worst night of my life. My 19-year-old son, Anthony, on his way to work, stopped in a small walk-through park to say hi to a few friends and a girl he liked. He was there for a little bit because he worked 60 hours a week and didn’t go out much. He was there about 20 minutes when a bunch of kids came in the park, two on bikes in front, and out of nowhere, one of them started shooting. Apparently earlier that day, a few of his friends got into a fight, and the kids came back and shot the park up. My son knew nothing about it, so for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, he lost his life.
Anthony was the one that worked really hard and stayed off the streets as much as possible because he didn’t want that life. He wanted better for himself. He loved to make people laugh; he was so funny and the biggest sweetheart everyone knew. Amazing kid. I died inside that 12th day of June. I love you more and more every day, Anthony.