Trayvon Martin

I am shot and killed in a residential neighborhood. My cell phone is on me and my friend is on the phone, and I am found to have been carrying only a bag of candy and a drink. 911 calls from neighbors record my screams for help, in the moments before my death. No one uses my cell phone to locate my family. No one canvass the neighborhood to see if someone... there knows me. I am a John Doe in the morgue for three days. But, my body is tested for drugs and alcohol. My killer is not tested for anything. My killer is questioned and released, and he is still free today. I am Trayvon Martin, and We are better than this.