Why?

There are some things guys say you should never put on the internet. Where you live, your kids' names; stuff you've seen, the shit you've done; the guys you like, the guys you don't. Little details, ya know? There's a lotta people out there waiting to hurt you and the ones you care about, people who'd never even know you existed if you hadn't left that fucking piece of your life out in the open where anyone could find it.

This is my first goddamn post. No facebook, no twitter, hardly anything about me anywhere outside the local ad pages these days. Shit, I'm barely even there- 'not like people come flocking to the Flats for their booze and cigs, right? I don't bother nobody, don't go asking for trouble; on the straight and narrow, ya know? My wife don't use this stuff, and my kids don't either. All the guys who need to know us already do; did from birth, most likely, in a neighborhood like ours, and none of 'em would ever touch a hair on our goddamn heads. So why the fuck is my little girl lyin' on a slab with a bullet in her skull?

It's a big thing, all over the fucking news. Investigation's wide open, pullin' suspects outta thin air just to let 'em go an interview later. The cops promised to keep me informed, promised to get the bastard who killed my Katie. For his sake, I hope they do... 'Cause I don't know what the hell I'll do if I find him first.