A Second Chance . . .

Although I lost her fifteen years ago, the memory of my fiancée still lingers.

She was an aspiring model robbed of the opportunity to grace the world with her beauty. To this day, although her doctor assured me that the two were not connected, I still harbor doubts whether her desire to give me a child did not in some way trigger her cancer.

I can recall her fighting back tears as she looked in the mirror. The ravages of chemotherapy can be most unflattering, but she swore defiantly that she would be victorious against leukemia.

Gone was the long flowing hair, the voluptuous physique, the bewitching eyes, the melodious voice of innocence, and in spite of it all, it was then that the true essence of her beauty was revealed . . .

Her tragic death, and my inability to cope with it, left me despondent. I decided to never let another woman get that close to me again.

Her doctor suggested I join a support group. I had no desire to relive those two years filled with pain and anguish. Instead I opted to shut out the world and bury my feelings.

Luckily a coworker informed me that suppressed emotions were notorious for making their presence known in other ways.

My fiancée’s death rekindled my fondness for writing, and I recalled a desk and an old typewriter my mother had given me in my youth.

I began studying books on writing. I also developed a passion for classical and jazz music, dining at fine restaurants, museums, and late night drives to the beach. Although I was always alone, the prevailing thought that plagued my mind was that I would meet someone and fall in love again.

I started writing poems and short stories. It was a peaceful haven in which I could retreat from all my grief and sorrow.

Several years later, I was walking through Grand Central Station when an alluring young lady asked for directions to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. What came over me that day is hard to explain, but I convinced her that the MET was my intended destination, too, and that we should share a taxi. We sat at opposite ends, and it was my intention not to follow through with my farce, but when we got there, we never left each other’s side.

Our relationship blossomed to the point where I asked her to be my wife. I probably would have never told her about the love I’d lost, but I came home early one day unexpectedly and found her in tears. She asked for my forgiveness and explained that she had found my manuscript while cleaning out the closet.

From that day she has been my staunchest supporter and encouraged me to publish my story. Her tireless and unwavering devotion has illuminated the path from which at times, I seem to lose my way.

I pray each day . . . “May I always be worthy of her love.”

Bradley Booth

I Apologize by Bradley Booth Book Trailer

Running Away With Murder . . .

Valentine’s Day, when most women were being showered with adoration, affection and endearment, Reeva Steenkamp crouched behind a locked bathroom door, seeking refuge from the man, whom professed to love her, as he fired four shots at it.

The bullets from Oscar Pistorius’s unlicensed gun tore through the door fatally wounding Steenkamp as she sustained injuries to her head, hips and arm.

The double amputee South African Paralympian sprinter has received international acclaim for his prowess on the racetrack, but his celebrity status will no doubt be tarnished, for his incredulous account of the events that led to Steenkamp’s death.

In a sworn affidavit, Pistorious states that his girlfriend’s death was a tragic accident.

Pistorious would have us believe that fearing for his life, he fired in the dark, at what he mistakenly thought was a burglar hiding in the bathroom.

Steenkamp’s family are still searching for answers to make sense of their tragic loss, but perhaps the truth of what really happened on that ill-fated Valentine’s Day morning will never be known  . . .

Will justice prevail in Steenkamp’s death or will Pistorious, national hero status, allow him to run free?

Bradley Booth/Freelance Commercial Writer/Author

Does Winning Really Take Care of Everything?

Tiger Woods hits a ball 1.68 inches in diameter towards a hole, which is 4.25 inches, and 4 inches deep.

He has won 14 majors and 77 PGA Tour and trails only Jack Nicklaus and Sam Snead respectively. He became a global icon and one of golf’s most celebrated athletes.

His smile, his boyish grin was infectious.

He married Swedish model Elin Nordegren, and it seemingly appeared that Woods had it all; but the brighter the picture, the darker the negative.

The illumination of the Wood’s dark side came on November 27, 2009 when he crashed his Cadillac Escalade into a fire hydrant. The resulting backlash of where Woods was going at 2:25 a.m. led to the discovery of his infidelity with at least a dozen women.

An epic fall from grace as the media pounced, castrated him, and his sponsors moved quickly to distance themselves from him.

Through it all one sponsor remained loyal to Woods albeit preferring to stay in the shadows. It would appear as if their loyalty has been rewarded since Woods has returned to his winning ways and is currently rank #1 in the world.

“Winning Takes Care of Everything” is the new Nike Ad that has received polarizing views from the media and critics.

The ad depicts Woods analyzing a shot with the aforementioned overlay caption.

This has created a firestorm for Nike, which their marketing department should be please with due  to the amount of media attention the ad has garnered, since most people are associating the caption has a vindication for Wood’s past misdeeds and transgressions.

Coupled with the fact that he and Lindsey Vonn are dating. It would appear that Woods is on top of the world in is professional and personal life.

Kate Fagan on ESPN, The Word, stated that we like to live vicariously through our athletes.

Perhaps she was speaking about herself. Her statement gives credence to the fact that one should keep one’s mouth closed and exude the impression of being inept as opposed to opening one’s mouth and removing all doubt.

Admire Woods for his steely determination, his fiery competitive spirit, his unrelenting quest for perfection, and his unwavering composure under pressure.

Qualities that no doubt have enabled him to excel on the golf course, but in no way idolize him, make him a role model for your children, and worse live vicariously though him.

In the final analysis, Woods is merely an athlete, who through his prowess on the golf course provides us with a form of entertainment. To hold him to a higher standard because of this is ludicrous, especially when no one is absolved from shame in his or her own private life.

A wiser man said it best . . . “He who is without sin among you, let him be the first to cast the first stone . . .”

Bradley Booth/Freelance Commercial Writer/Author

Let The Punishment Fit The Crime . . .

The outpouring comments calling for a public lynching, to metering out the same cold-blooded execution, in order to save taxpayers the expense of housing two teenagers, who brazenly shot to death a 13-month-old baby, is a very fiery and divisive topic.

One cannot argue that the crime committed by these two teenagers is not heinous, and that the punishment administered should be of equal measure, but our system is one of due process, where an individual is considered innocent until proven guilty.

If we are to subjugate thoughts of retribution, we need to let our justice system, no matter how imperfect we think it to be, run its course, and after all the facts have been presented and examined, whatever verdict and punishment is rendered by the court, is what the accused should have to contend with.

Once we allow ourselves to entertain the notion of dispelling due process and exacting revenge for nefarious acts of violence, are we any better than the perpetrators, when in the guise of being law-abiding citizens, we trample and ignore their rights?

Sherry West was pushing her baby Antonio in his stroller when two teenagers accosted her and demanded money. When she refused and insisted she had no money to give them, the elder of the two, whom she later identified as De’Marquis Elkins, threatened to shoot her, and her baby as well.

West wrestled with her two assailants. Neither could snatch her purse. Miffed by their futile struggle, Elkins allegedly carried out his threat. He shot West in the leg; another bullet grazed her head, and then with depraved indifference shot her baby between the eyes.

Would the outcome have been different if West had just given Elkins and his 15-year-old accomplice, Dominique Lane, her purse?

The coastal city of Brunswick, Georgia is appalled that such a ghastly incident could have occurred in their small close-knit community. Witnesses tipped police that Lane was seen in the backseat of a car driving away from the scene of the shooting.

Police using West’s description that her attackers were African-American teenagers, concentrated their investigation on the surrounding schools’ absentee records, and by going door to door. West identified a mug shot of Elkins out of the twenty-four she looked at, unbeknownst that the police already had him in custody.

Although his aunt, Katrina Elkins, stated that he dined with her at breakfast, which was an hour before the shooting occurred, Brunswick police spokesman, Todd Rhodes, says authorities have sufficient reasons to charge Elkins.

Verdell Hunter characterized her grandson, Lane, as a baby himself, not a baby killer.

West’s mournful depiction of what happened to her and Antonio will no doubt sway public sentiment that our judicial system should be abolished in this particular case.

Derisive comments querying if President Barack Obama had a son, would he likely to be of the same temperament as Elkins, only serves to fuel hatred and propagate racial discord.

There will be no winners in this case.

The parents of Antonio Santiago demand justice. West’s says she can never forgive her baby’s killer. “I hope the shooter dies,” she cried. “A life for a life.”

One can only hope that justice will truly be served.

A long drawn out battle is brewing, with Elkins’ lawyer proclaiming his client’s innocence. Lane’s mother, Brenda Moses, claims that her son is a victim and doesn’t know Elkins.

In the end we should not rush to judgment, but ensure that these are the individuals, who tried to rob a mother and ended up killing her 13-month-old son.

When these allegations are proven in the court of law, and not by the court of public opinion, then by all means let the punishment fit the crime.

Bradley Booth/Freelance Commercial Writer/Author

Affairs of the Heart . . .

Affairs of the heart, which leads to uncontrollable crimes of passion, can happen anywhere and at anytime.

The insatiable desire to exact a measure of revenge when another suitor has captured your lover’s affections is a testament to the destructive force that drives relatively sane individuals to commit murder.

Although Marine officials have not released an official statement, one can only surmise that when their investigation has concluded, the facts will reveal that there had been a romantic entanglement that destroyed the careers and lives of three promising young Marines.

Why else would Marine Sgt. Eusebio Lopez, 25, of Pacifica, California, throw away such a promising military career by murdering two of his comrades and then killing himself?

The bodies of Lance Cpl. Sara Castromata, 19, of Oakley, California, and Cpl. Jacob Wooley, 23, of Guntown, Mississippi, were discovered together on Thursday night, in a room at the Taylor Halls barracks at Marine Corps base in Quantico, Virginia.

Sgt. Lopez body was discovered in the same hall, but in a different location than those of his two colleagues.

What drove him to commit such a horrific act?

The Marine Corps will no doubt keep claiming that the investigation is ongoing and they do not know the motive for the double murders/suicide. Everyone else will speculate and arrive at the same conclusion.

A love triangle ensnared them all, and Sgt. Lopez, perhaps not knowing how to control his emotions and no one to confide in, took matters into his own hands.

Quantico Base is known as the crossroads of the Marine Corps, where officers receive their basic training, but in the case of these three decorated Marines, perhaps another lesson would have been more suitable.

Affairs of the heart that goes awry ultimately have a very disastrous ending.

Bradley Booth/Freelance Commercial Writer/Author

Have You Seen Her?

Toni Enclade cannot bring herself to think that her daughter is dead.

Although almost three weeks have passed since Terrilynn Monette disappeared in New Orleans, her despondent mother still clings to hope that somehow her daughter is still alive.

The 26-year-old elementary teacher was last seen leaving a parking lot near the Lakeview neighborhood bar, Parlay’s, where she had been celebrating her nomination for teacher of the year with a group of friends.

If the accounts of what happened on that ill-fated night are true, then Monette should have never been allowed to get behind the wheel.

Monette allegedly was so inebriated that the bartender felt compelled to cut off her alcohol consumption. Furthermore she told friends that she was going to sleep in her car because she knew she was too intoxicated to drive home.

This is where I am completely baffled.

If I am in the company of friends, and I see that one of them has drunk themselves into stupor, would it not be incumbent on me to make sure they get home safely?

Yet in the case of Monette, no one offered. Not the bartender, who clearly could have called her a cab, and not her friends, who readily accepted the fact that she would try to sleep it off in her car.

This act of concern for Monette’s well-being would have surely made the outcome of that night on March 2^nd entirely different.  What their inactions have caused is a mother’s mournful plea that someone would come forth with any information that could shed a modicum of light on her daughter’s whereabouts.

Although the investigation is still ongoing, as each day passes, the prospect of finding the Long Beach, California native grows dim.

Equusearch, the rescue organization headquartered in Dickinson Texas, have suspended their efforts after an intensive and exhaustive search of the bayous failed to produce Monette or the 2012 black Honda Accord she was driving.

Enclade does not believe the accounts of what happened that night. She claims her daughter would never sleep in her car. She steadfastly believes that her daughter was abducted, although surveillance cameras show her driving out of the parking lot alone.

“Where is my daughter,” she cries. “Where is her car?”

Police have questioned a man last seen talking to Monette in the parking lot, but for now he is not a suspect.

What has happened to Monette? Have you seen her?

If so please reach out to the New Orleans Police Dept at  (504) 821-2222 or to Texas EquuSearch at (281) 309-9500.

Whatever information you have, no matter how inconsequential it may seem, may help solve the mystery of this beloved teacher’s disappearance.

Bradley Booth/Freelance Commercial Writer/Author

An Act of Cowardice . . .

Self-preservation is the core of humanity’s existence. It is this natural instinct that allows us to flee whenever we perceive danger.

There is however an unnatural trait, in which we sacrifice our own safety for the sake of another.

Whether this trait is learned or overtakes us instinctually is subject to debate, but one thing is abundantly apparent, those who possess this redeeming quality are labeled as “heroes”.

This is not the case of the person, who convinced or was swayed to partake in a lascivious encounter in the bushes.

Sharai Mawera and her boyfriend were copulating in the village of Kariba, near Mahombekombe primary school in Zimbabwe when a lion approached them. The unidentified fisherman realizing the lion’s presence ran off leaving his girlfriend behind.

He turned around long enough to witnessed Mawera being mauled. No one heeded is impassionate plea for help. Most thought he was deranged since he was attired with only a condom.

He was finally able to convince local authorities about what happened. When they returned to the place where he and his girlfriend had been having their sexual encounter, all that remain was Mawera mauled body.

Mawera is dead because the person she gave herself to cared more about saving himself, rather than dying with honor as he fought to protect her.

Bradley Booth/Freelance Commercial Writer/Author

Human Error . . .

Whenever and wherever a tragic accident has occurred, more often than not when the investigation is concluded, the underlying cause is on account of human error.

This simple yet confusing premise is at the heart of so many unnecessary, regrettable, and grievous mishaps.

By all accounts Dianna Hanson was very knowledgeable about exotic big cats, and yet she was all alone cleaning out an enclosure pen, when a 4-year-old African lion named, Cous Cous, killed her.

Her father, Paul, characterized his daughter as a “fearless” lover of big cats.

Was it this fearlessness that led to her death?

Hanson was a two-month intern at Cat Haven in Dunlap, California. She began working at the wild cats sanctuary in January, and hoped and dreamed this would be a stepping-stone to her ultimate goal of working in a big California zoo.

What is inexplicable is why would she have been in the enclosure alone?

A coworker claimed to have been speaking with her moments before the fatal attack. Their communication abruptly ended and when contact with her could not be reestablished, the coworker decided to see what had happened.

By the time the employee arrived, Cous Cous had already mauled the 24-year-old intern.

Cous Cous was shot and killed when attempts to lure the 500-pound lion away from Hanson were unsuccessful.

The coroner at the conclusion of his autopsy determined that Hanson died from a fractured neck. His supposition is that the animal may have blindsided the young intern and swiped her neck with its paw, killing her instantly.

What were the real circumstances that led to her death?

While the authorities investigate what caused this unfortunate and tragic event, there are still puzzling questions that may never be truly answered:

1. Was the lock to the gate faulty or was it inadvertently left partially unlocked.
2. What was Cat Haven’s founder Dale Anderson’s great rush to reopen the sanctuary? Hanson died on March 6, and yet the park reopened on Sunday March 10.
3. Was it proper protocol for a young intern, only two months on the job, to be in a lion enclosure by herself?
4. Did Hanson’s coworker distract her when they communicated via walkie-talkie? Although other reports claimed she was talking on her cell phone.
5. What is the outcome of the necropsy on Cous Cous?
6. Has Cat Haven taken the necessary steps to ensure the safety of the public and its employees as well?

This disastrous incident when looked upon in its simplest form is one of human error . . .  Someone just got too close to a lion.

 

Bradley Booth/Freelance Commercial Writer/Author

My Brother’s Keeper . . .

Jeremy Bush told his brother Jeff that they didn’t have to work today. Little did he know that would be the last time he would see his brother alive again.

The catastrophic events that indelibly have shattered the lives of Bush and his family occurred on the night of February 28. The family had just retired to bed when a deafening noise startled them.

“Right when it happened, said Janell Wicker, “it sounded like someone had just rammed our house with their car going 100 miles an hour.”

Jeremy Bush heard his brother screaming for help and ran to his bedroom. Jeff and all the furnishing in the room were swallowed up by a massive sinkhole, approximately 20 feet wide and 50 feet deep.

“Everything was gone. My brother’s bed, my brother’s dresser, my brother’s TV. My brother was gone,” Bush told CNN’s AC360.”

Bush asked his father-in-law for a shovel, and began digging frantically in an attempt to get to his brother.

“The hole was over my head. I could hear him calling out to me,” Bush cried. “I couldn’t get him out. I tried so hard. I tried everything I could.”

Authorities have given up their rescue efforts and any hope that Jeff Bush is still alive. Demolition crews started destroying Bush’s home on Sunday, giving the family time to sift through the debris for their personal belongings.

The home was completely demolished on Monday, as officials try to determine what they are dealing with.

Hillsborough County is well known as sinkhole alley. According to one state official, sinkholes are created when acidic groundwater eats away at the bedrock made up of limestone and other carbonate rocks. This erosion form voids that ultimately collapses when the weight above can no longer support it.

The giant crater that suddenly caved in under the Jeff Bush’s bedroom floor, and the subsequent demolition of the edifice that housed over three generations has left Jeremy and his entire family despondent and looking for a sense of closure.

A clawed bible, a child’s teddy bear, and the excruciating memory of his brother crying out for help as he dug in vain to save him, are the only things that Jeremy Bush has left.

Bradley Booth/Freelance Commercial Writer/Author

Forgive Me, Dexter . . .

If you happened to have read the article that preceded this one (In Search of a Diamond), then you know the events that surrounded my romantic weekend getaway.

What I did not mention since it really had no bearing on the aforementioned article was the events that occurred prior to my wife and I leaving, and how it made me appreciate and spoke volumes about my eldest daughter.

Permit me to provide a little history, to better clarify, exactly what led to the events that transpired on that morning.

I took the entire family on vacation, which consisted of visiting Water Country and Busch Gardens in Williamsburg, Virginia. Prior to us leaving, my wife and I decided to ask our next-door neighbor, to look after our three cats and our resilient pleco every other day.

My daughter wanted her pet hamster, Dexter to be cared by one of her friends. I knew this particular friend of hers, and was hesitant about leaving, Dexter, with her, since she was the owner of two very large dogs.

My daughter insisted that Dexter would be fine, and pleaded with me not to second-guess her decision.

While we vacationed, my daughter was excited about the pictures of, Dexter that her friend sent. We arrived back home at 10:30p.m. on Friday. I wanted to go and pick up, Dexter, but my daughter felt it was too late.

The following morning, my wife and I wanted to leave early to start our romatic weekend getaway. My daughter said that wouldn’t be possible because her friend’s family were not early risers on the weekends. In fact she explained that it was almost impossible to raise them before noon.

I told her that simply would not do. I instructed her to text her friend every half an hour commencing from nine until she received a reply that Dexter could be picked up.

Two hours later, my daughter told me she still had not received a reply. I started thinking the worst. I confided in my wife that perhaps something happened to, Dexter, and that is why our daughter’s friend could not be reached.

Around noon we received word that Dexter could be picked up in thirty minutes. The house was on the corner. I parked slightly before it. I grew impatient since fifteen minutes had elapsed and there was so sign of my daughter.

She finally emerged from the house ten minutes later, empty-handed.  As she approached the car I wondered what fabulous tale would she tell me. I knew the occupants of the house were home, since I had seen my daughter’s friend’s brother departing from the back door.

She got in the car without uttering a single word.  When I queried about, Dexter’s whereabouts, she started crying. I was able to make out through the avalanche of tears, that the friend presented, Dexter, in a closed box.

She told my daughter that sometime around midnight, Dexter somehow had gotten out of his cage and died when her dogs were playing with him.

I was flabbergasted.

I wanted to know why didn’t they inform us earlier. Why wasn’t a phone call made from the morning? Why kind of parents would let their child handle the situation in such a manner?

My daughter said that her friend’s mother had come out and apologized. She also offered to pay for a new hamster.

“Why didn’t you take him?” I demanded.

“I just couldn’t,” she cried. “I don’t want to remember him like that.”

I drove home in disgust. I was fuming at how my daughter’s friend’s parents had handled the situation. To them it was only a hamster . . . something that could easily be replaced with money.

Never mind the pain and anguish my daughter was suffering. Never mind that their daughter had been irresponsible in taking care of a friend’s pet.

My daughter agonized over Dexter’s death for several days.

As for me, it was the proudest I have ever been of my daughter. The hamster was purchased to teach her responsibility. The first one had died from pneumonia because of an open window in her room.

We purchased, Dexter a year later, and counseled her on the need to protect and care for her pet. He had been with us for a full year before this incident happen.

My daughter had grown attached to this simple animal, and although he perished through no fault of her own, she learned an invaluable lesson . . . no amount of money could ever take his place.

So I echo the sentiment of my daughter, forgive me, Dexter . . . I should have never allowed you to be put in harm’s way.

Bradley Booth/Freelance Commercial Writer/Author