Years ago I was part of an ambulance team that responded to a 911 call from a very distraught father. His daughter was sitting in his chair but she wasn't moving. He couldn't wake her up by calling her. He seemed very 'distant' to the 911 operator who in turned passed that info on to us in the ambulance.

We entered the house and one of the team went to the father. The other two of us went to the daughter. She was a beautiful young girl with long straight hair and soft facial features. The .22 was leaning across her body and she was sitting up fairly straight in the cushioned leather chair. I looked at the ceiling and saw a small hole about two feet behind where she was sitting. And time stopped--because I knew. There was so little blood on the skin just behind her lower jaw. I couldn't see the tiny hole through the top of her head without moving some of her hair aside. The police got there within two minutes of our arrival. We took the father to a hospital. The ride back to our base was very subdued, very quiet. Not at all usual for us. To this day I don't understand. She wasn't even sixteen.

There is an old saying I learned that was attributed to the Apache (Native North American people): I have no pockets to put that in. I think I will never have pockets to put that in.