Death, anger and the n-word

I think about the dead. A lot. And it rages inside me like a forest fire.

This is how they teach you about death in journalism school.

They tell you that, one day, you’ll be assigned to cover the homicide of a little girl. It’s always a little girl.

Anyhow, they’ll tell you about knocking on neighbours’ doors and trying to get a sense of what happened, who the kid was, that sort of thing. And then you’ll have to speak to the ki…