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Racism stories in America: the wheelchair

OYour Honor,
I confess.
The relatives of the dead are right.
The victim had no gun.
Yet he was armed, I swear.
And I knew I had to shoot.
Rifle?
No, no rifle, I would say so, otherwise.
I know the weapons, I know them all, because they taught me well.
I was careful.
I studied and rehearsed with commitment.

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