It’s 4am on Saturday. I wake up thirsty and amble my way into the kitchen, fill a glass with water and drink it to the last drop. I return to bed and snuggle back under the covers. Warm and comfortable, I fall back asleep.
The first thought that surfaces on that bright and sunny morning goes straight to the boy at the heart of one of the saddest community tragedies that took place in Kamloops, as someone recently called it on the fundraiser page. Jessie Simpson, whom I mentioned in a recent column, questioning whether the justice system betrayed his cause (I think it did.)