The murder of Danny Conorquie is not an incident. His death at the hands of homicidal trespassers is the death of our son, our little brother, our big brother, our godson, our nephew, our cousin, our friend. Danny was only 20. Not old enough to hold public office, but old enough to be sent to the neighborhood where the frontline of our just yet endless struggle for territorial integrity bisects our national treasure. Old enough to fearlessly stand up to a pair of bandits in the carrying out of his duties. Not old enough to have his life snatched away in this wicked malicious odious act of human depredation. Danny did not just die while serving his country. Danny had his life robbed - snatched away violently by brazen criminals - while he was serving our nation as a symbol of authority and of assistance to our visitors. Today, I am having a hard time containing the anger and outrage in my heart. Today I am in no mood for any diplospeak and certainly not for any minimizing or dismissal of the grief welling up in our Jewel for Dannys family who now must live with a gap in thier lives, a wound that will never quite heal.
Posted on: Fri, 26 Sep 2014 21:56:33 +0000
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