Two nights ago a 16-year-old was shot at the duplex across the street from our back yard. It isn't 70 yards away. He'll live; the paper said it wasn't life-threatening.
I didn't hear anything. I was awake and in the living room working on the computer. The snowfall was too light to muffle sounds, the curtain isn't that heavy, but I heard nothing at all. We didn't know anything had happened until the mars lights from 6 squad cars woke up Youngest Son.
The oldest son in that house (and probably the second, as well) are infamously into drugs, so I'd guess that it was some drug dispute.
I've seen but never met the older sons. When I'm out they're not, and they're not out very often. They live in their own world. And they're just 70 yards away.
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