Her Name was Nia Wilson

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.

Story is marked as mature.

A girl was murdered yesterday. She was black. Some people say that skin color didn't matter. I believe it matters a great deal.

Her throat was cut while she stood on a train. Her two sisters traveled with her. One was stabbed. The attack happened late at night while they were coming home.

She bled to death while waiting for help. This isn't my story. I didn't know her, had never met her. Do I have any right to tell her story?

The authorities circulated footage of the killer and he was caught less than twenty-four hours later, riding the train like nothing had happened.

Between the murder and the arrest the following occurred:

A thus far unsubstantiated report that a White Supremacist group in the area encouraged the suspect.

The same group would be demonstrating the following day.

A counter rally was planned.

The local news used a picture of the murder victim altered to look like she was holding a gun (it was a cell phone case) and claimed it was an accident.

Add her name to the list and remember it.


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