Three doors.
The first door was the border. He walked through.
The second door was a Chicago jail cell. He walked through.
The third door was a courtroom. He didn’t even bother to show up.
For three years he lived in a city that refused, by law, to ask who he was.
For three years he was free.
Then, in March, he put on a black ski mask, hid behind a lighthouse on a public pier, and waited.
An 18-year-old college freshman walked out to see the Chicago skyline with her friends.
She didn’t come back.
Three doors. All locked from the inside.
By the people we elected to keep her safe.
She should be alive.
God bless every American who refuses to call this normal.
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