The following is an account of Treyvon Martin's death provided by NBC.
Treyvon Martin had just left a local convenient store and was on his way back to his father’s fiancée’s house. The innocent 17 year old had spent a large portion of the day studying for his school exams and was in need of a little energy boost. He had thought about getting an energy drink, but had decided against it due to health concerns. Instead, he settled with a watermelon beverage and a pack of Skittles.
As he was walking, his phone began to ring. It was his girlfriend, Jeantel. “Hello,” he answered.
“Hey there. What are you doing?” Jeantel asked.
“Well, I was feeling a bit fatigued from all the intense studying and had decided to go out for a walk and get a snack.”
Jeantel sighed. “Treyvon, you spend too much time in those books. You should live a little! Get out and have some fun!”
“Well, getting into Stanford is not going to be easy and I want to make sure I have the best chance possible!”
As the two continued to talk, loud latin music could be heard from a car that was nearing. The completely harmless 16 year old slowly turned and noticed a low-riding, candy-paint El Camino was nearing him. The driver’s side window slowly rolled down revealing a menacing hispanic with gang tattoos covering most of his face.
“You lost holmes?” the man asked while revealing his metallic teeth.
“No sir. I’m just on my way back to my father’s fiancee’s house,” Treyvon answered timidly.
“Don’t you think you’re a little... dark to be in this neighborhood?”
Although Treyvon was greatly offended, he resisted the urge to lash out. “I don’t want any trouble sir. I just want to get back home.”
The car stopped and the man got out. “Holmes, you were asking for trouble the moment you stepped into my block,” the large gang member said as he slapped Treyvon’s watermelon beverage from his hand. “Don’t you know that I am extremely racist and I unfairly profile African-Americans?” It was at that point that he decided to run. He ran with all his might, but the convicted felon ran faster. Just when the 15 year old felt like he was out of breath, the Mexican cartel leader caught him.
“Wha’ch ya gonna do now? Huh holmes? Nobody is going to save you now!”
“Please,” pleaded Treyvon. “I won’t come back to your neighborhood! I promise!”
“No my friend, it is too late for that.” Treyvon looked into the man’s eyes which were directly above several tear tattoos. The eyes were dark and empty. It was as though Treyvon could see into the man’s body and there was no soul. The man was just an empty shell of hate.
The man pulled out his gun. Treyvon began to scream for help. The man fired.
After killing the 14 year old, the man realized he would have to make it look like self-defense. With his keen knowledge of crime scene analysis that is completely at odds with the attributes of his character presented thus far, he punched himself in the nose. He then positioned himself lying against the sidewalk and began to slam the back of his head into it.
Nearly a year later, George “Death Angel” Zimmerman, would be acquitted of all changes and get away with the murder of an utterly innocent, defenseless, 13 year old cello player with braces. The jury, which was composed of racist white women, were paid off by the cartel to return a “not guilty” verdict. Zimmerman is currently back in the comfort of his home planning how he is going to murder addition black kids.
