For some reason unknown to me, I have to tell this story. I can’t say that I am proud of this story but there is a story to be told. This is another story about my older brother, CarlWayne. Carl Wayne is almost eight years older than I am. Maybe it is the age differenceor it could be that we are completely different in our personalities, which made itimpossible for us to relate to each other. My other older brother, Donald (Bud) who is sixyears older than I am, have a good relationship. So, I am going with the difference inpersonalities as our problems.I don’t remember for certain what year this event occurred but I do recall the incident.Carl Wayne had married a girl from Trenton who was then his second wife. She wasseveral years younger than he was. In fact, she was several years younger than I was. Theywere soon divorced with two small children.Carl Wayne was often gone for months at a time. He did not come back to Trenton on aregular basis. He had court ordered visitation with his children but he was seldom aroundto visit them. He did return to Trenton one week to stay for a while. He was driving aleased brand new Mercury Cougar. It was white, two door hardtop and nice. It was everyyoung man’s dream to drive.It was a sunny afternoon and I was fishing with my girlfriend, Susan Jinkins and herMother, Lucille. The creek where we were fishing was about four miles from town. Wehad parked the car and walked a short distance north of the bridge to fish in the creek.We had been fishing for about an hour when my younger brother, Larry, drove up. Heparked on the road and yelled out to me. “David, Mother wants you to come home.”“Why”, I asked him. “Carl Wayne’s wife shot him,” was Larry’s reply. I cast my lureback into the creek, “Did she kill him?” “No, she just shot him in the side and he is on hisway to the hospital.” “What does Mother want me to do about it?” Larry said he didn’tknow but Mother wanted us all there.I made several more casts into the murky water of the creek, thinking about what I coulddo. I saw no reason for me to have to give up my afternoon fishing trip because of mybrother’s stupidity. Then suddenly the light came on! If Carl Wayne was in the hospitalthen that poor little white two-door hardtop was just going to be sitting there collectingdust. What a pity! “We have to go,” I told Susan and Lucille. As we were loading ourfishing gear into my car, I told Susan about my plan.