As a lifelong friend spoke at the eulogy today, we never had anything but each other and to be without someone like Ogre is to know there is one less person by your side. As I grew to adulthood and began my own legacy I never felt the need to call on him but I know that he would have been there for any of it. In fact the last we spoke he was the one telling me about how the worst part is the wait between being out on bail and being told whether you’re doing time or you’re out Scott free. There are so many things that I think of now that in my reminiscence of our times can be attributed to him that I want to cry. I want to feel the physical relief of that sorrow knowing someone who’s life impacted yours so greatly is no longer alive because his deeds were struck down by a weaker man. I think of my old excuse for not showing sorrow as “Thugs Don’t Cry” mimicking the over the top B movie at Blockbuster that Samantha would never want to rent. I want to be pitiful and say these words are my tears. I am crying to the world in my grief and hopefully venting this anguish. I walked down Frankford Ave and up the cemetery hill yesterday looking for where he was struck down. I couldn’t find the spot. Later I was told it was a block away from our old house. I wanted to throw up. As I mentioned earlier we had issues there and in fact it got to the point where once my mom found a better spot out of the hood we moved. That was the closure of one chapter and the beginning of the end of my Frankford days. He got us through that rough patch between the apartment on Griscom that was our salvation from the Fonze to the first real house we lived in. It seems as though tragedy strikes all of history’s greatest heroes, Ogre was on his path towards getting a spot out of the hood and getting wifed up with the mother of his children. This tale has no wisdom or lesson to be taught. His actions spoke for him time and time again and I will not relegate this tragedy to the pitfalls of living in a shot ass neighborhood. This was the new way of life, the reason this city and this hood has gone to hell. Damien and I laughed the other day at Mike’s lyric “I’m from the era of the One on One, punching niggas for fun”. Then I think of Ogre being shot dead for being of the caliber of dude to stand up for the small and “shield the weak” as Darius would say.
Mike old buddy, I guess I’m from that era too, and if it wasn’t for my man Ogre I never would have lived past it.
May He Finally Be Granted Peace...and his Killer be shown True Justice.
David Howarth, 32, of Penn Street near Dyre, was found shot once in the chest on Brill Street near Frankford Avenue in the Northeast shortly after 4:30 a.m. yesterday. He was pronounced dead at Frankford-Torresdale Hospital at 5:30 a.m. Detectives were interviewing a possible suspect, but no charges had been filed, said Homicide Sgt. Ron McClane.