There was a body inside the building at 141 West Little York suite A Tuesday afternoon. A woman in a white shirt hurried to the front entrance of the parking lot that was blocked off by that yellow crime scene tape. I knew immediately it was a family member. Homicide detectives on the scene held the woman’s hand and walked her inside the building. It was there where the man she promised to spend the rest of her life with was found – lifeless. He was shot in the neck by someone who wanted what he had. The killer also drove off with his white van that was parked outside the store. About two hours later more cars started to arrive on West Little York. I paid particular attention to an older lady who was no more than 5 feet tall. She appeared to be in her 60’s. She had to be held up as detectives in white shirts confirmed what she already knew in her heart. Her son Willie Scott was dead. She and other family members prayed outside of the clothing store that Willie operated as a second job. The family closed ranks in a small circle as the medical examiner rolled Willie’s body out on a gurney. There was two short quick screams – “my baby, oh my baby” from Willie’s mother. Then out of no where there was this beautiful voice singing a spiritual tune. It was as if this voice which drowned out traffic contained every instrument needed to make the song complete. It was the wife of Willie – Barbara – in her own way searching for the strength to watch her husband remains be taken away by county workers. Just outside of the crime tape I stood. I realized now it was my turn to go and ask this grieving family I’ve watched from afar for the last 2 hours – “how do you feel about this?” I think it’s the toughest and coldest part of a reporter’s job. Each time I’m at a murder scene, I put myself in that family’s place. It angers me that I am required to get their reaction – what exactly do I expect them to say different from the last mother who lost her son?. This is the toughest part of my job!