Then the war. My son had just turned three years old when the United States shocked, awed, and invaded Iraq. There were photographs from the war all over The Internet but I didn’t want to look at them. I reluctantly clicked on a link and the first picture I saw was of a little boy, about my son’s age, dead in the rubble with his skull hollowed out. He wasn’t killed by a bus. A safe didn’t fall on him. He didn’t have cancer or any other disease. It wasn’t a terrible accident. He was dead because The United States broke into the country illegally, walked up to this little kid, and blew his brains out of the top of his skull.
Then we found out about the torture prisons.