My friend and I had a lot in common—including mistrustful boyfriends. I finally broke free. April wasn’t so lucky.
I always thought I was popular, but on the night of September 16, 2005, I was sure of it. As I sat in a sorority meeting at American University, my cell phone vibrated about 30 times in the pocket of my jeans.
During a break, I went into the hall to check my calls. I saw the names of fellow members of the Congressional Black Caucus Foundation internship program, in which I’d taken part that summer. I thought they were calling to say they were in town for the organization’s conference. I called one of them back.
“Jackie, are you sitting down?” my friend asked.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“Baby, they found April’s body. April’s dead.” Continue reading