voyeurism
	
	That boy James had a violent streak growing up, but he was such a sweetheart that I never thought anything would come of it. Desmond is so heartbroken, and I get it, but a full week of crying? A boy his age shouldn't be so distraught. They stitched Jackie up real quick and she's back to her lively self; I can hear her bouncing off the walls, complaining, just itching to get back outside. They still don't know where James is. 
	This is how it happened. 
	Some afternoon with hot summer sun, the neighborhood kids were running around kicking a ball against the chain link fence, bickering as always. The strong buzzing of the bugs and the heat started to give me a real headache right then. The ball spilled out of Desmond's tiny hands and went rolling down the sidewalk. Maybe he thinks it's his fault, maybe that's why he won't stop crying.
	Jackie ran after it, all the way down the road and smack into this tall and scowling man who had just rounded the corner. Jackie started to apologize and just like that she got thrown to the side, she tumbled and landed on her head, and now blood streamed down her forehead. I started to lean forward in my seat then. James got up real quick, tossed the cigarette out of his mouth and started running to Jackie, checked her head and got her on her feet and walking back to the house. From the look on her face she was too scared to feel much of the hurt. All the while, the man just stood there watching. Once Jackie was on her feet solidly and far enough away, James rounded on him and let him have it.
	"What the fuck was that? What the fuck is wrong with you?" he demanded, and he was so hot with anger I thought he would smack the man right in his face. This man didn't even flinch, just looked down his nose at James with contempt. 
	"Out of my way, boy" he said, voice vindictive and a little higher pitched than I'd have thought. Still it carried well down the block. He tried to walk through the kid and James got his hands up right in the man's chest and pushed him backwards. Nearly got him off his feet, but the big fellow found his balance and a sickened frown grew across his face. 
	It happened, then. He pulled a fucking pistol out from his side and pointed it right at James who screamed, swatted, and a gunshot rang out around the neighborhood. The world seemed frozen. All the kids' heads whipped around and horror took their little faces. A clatter, and I blinked again. James and the man were still standing, the man clutching his hand, the gun skittering on the concrete, dropped.
	James got the jump on him, then. A punch to the stomach and then the head, screaming, crying "You bastard!" The man doubled over and James pushed him to the ground, and I was off my seat hanging practically over the railing.  James walked over to the man and stomped right on his head, and there was a crushing sound, and blood started to spread on the pavement. 
	James was heaving. Chest rising and falling, reading his lips I saw him whisper, "Oh my god." He looked around, left, right, frantic, shaking. He dashed to pick up the gun and ran, fast as I've ever seen him.

	The police had come quick enough after the gunshot, cleaned everything up, and I actually saw Anna in the doorway, out of the house for once or as close as she'd get. Tears didn't ever stop coming down her frightened little face, saying things like "No, I didn't see, no, I don't know where he went, no, I can't contact him, please find my son, please," and the like. They got around to asking me what I saw, too. I said I had only come out once I heard the sirens.