White Boy Set on Fire

This white boy, Michael Bower, was allegedly set on fire by Jesus Mendez and Steven Shelton, pictured below.



There are other "minority" (Hey, they are the majority world wide) teens who are being sought for this sickening murder attempt also! Did you catch this on NBC, CBS, or ABC? I did manage to find a small piece on CNN, but no mention of the race of the perpetrators. And it seems the punks did it because he had reported his dad's bike stolen. http://www.cnn.com/2009/CRIME/10/13/florida.teen.burned/index.html?iref=newssearch


A story in the Miami Herald, of which I am unable to get to the link any longer, perhaps they have removed it (?) let me know if you find it - by Jennifer Lebovich said, "Within minutes of being burned over much of his body, Michael Brewer wailed in agony as onlookers tried to help the 15-year-old, according to 911 tapes released Friday.

“Please, please, please,” the boy screamed and cried.

“Please help me,” he repeated.

The Broward Sheriff’s Office released the series of calls in connection with Monday’s attack by a group of five teenage classmates in Deerfield Beach. The teens, say police, set Brewer on fire after dousing him with rubbing alcohol, and have been charged in the attack. The boy remains in intensive care and doctors say it will take months for him to recover."

End of quote:

This reminds me of another burning incident. About twelve years ago, I was in a little town in Mississippi called Rome. There were approximately twenty whites in the little town and a couple hundred blacks. I was visiting one of the two white families who lived there. The eldest son of this family spent a great deal of time dealing with domestic abuse situations in this little town. His family owned the small mom & pop grocery store and cafe there and found themselves in the position of pretty much taking care of the blacks there...gave them jobs, overlooked small instances of theft at the store, brought diapers and formula to a number of the different black women who's baby daddies was off on another drunk. Sometimes they would sit with some of the women after patching their black and blue eyes, cut faces, etc. and just sat with them as these women feared their man coming home to give them another beating. I spent some time there, and I thought, my God and this goes on like this all the time. "yes, maaam" they said. Violet, a black woman I met there, just couldn't say enough good things about this wonderful family who helped the town out again and again. When some thieving black punks, friends of her adult son, broke in and threatened her, this family bought her a new window, and once again, watched out for her and her place...again. Gee, funny, all these black folks in town new that this family was in fact, a klan family. No, this didn't make me "join" the Klan. I had already been a member for 15 years and an officer/spokeswoman for at least 10. So..no..this was no defining moment.

Okay, so I said something about a burning incident right. So after a week there, and meeting the locals - during the day - all nice enough. I head to the cafe around dusk and here I see about 50 of the local black teens standing around in a group laughing and having a good time. "Hey, Misses" they holler out to me. "Hey" I holler back. Nothing intimidating in - either from me to them nor them to me. What I found alarming is that as I looked over to see what all the laughing was about I notice the old hound dog I had seen laying under a Magnolia tree that afternoon during a hot and muggy Mississippi summer day. I wanted to puke and tears immediately came to my eyes. These "minority" teens had poured gasoline or kerosene on it and had set this dog on fire. It must have just happened, cause once you tried to separate the sounds of laughter from the other night sounds you could here this pitiful painful whimper. I'm sure it was kerosene as it burns slower and if you've lived in the country you've probably used a kerosene heater a time or two. Gasoline would have burned the dog up quick. Needless to say, the dog didn't die right away. The next day I left as scheduled. Violet waved goodbye as I drove past the charred remains of that ole dog. Are our natures really the same? Is our compassion the same? Not on an individual basis, because I know there are excections on both sides of the fence. But as a group are these the same.

As another news story or commercial plays out about the huge humanitarian efforts being conducted by white nations, I think about that dog and poor poor Michael. But more than that I wonder what America will be like for white children thirty or forty years from now.