“Who was this boy to you, the one who was murdered?” he asked.

“He was my son,” I replied.

The man’s eyes flickered like candles about to go out.

“I lost a son too,” he said. He gestured at a photo hanging on the wall, a kid in a Boy Scout uniform, giving the peace sign.

“Vietnam,” the guy said. “Eighteen years old.”

So much grief. So many people in mourning. Souls everywhere bent double under the weight.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said.

“And I hope you find who killed your boy,” the guy said. He wouldn’t let me pay for the flyers.

I drove the Econoline to a park on the Willamette River and ate a can of deviled ham and a sleeve of Ritz crackers for lunch. The sun sparkled where it hit the water, and Mt. Hood floated on a layer of haze. A bunch of hippies sprawled on a patch of grass nearby, white boys with long hair and beards, white girls in Indian-print skirts and headbands. Someone had a guitar, someone else a Frisbee. A couple of the girls got up to dance. A big, yellow dog joined them, barking excitedly. One of the girls took hold of the animal’s front paws and waltzed it in a circle.

I went over with some flyers and handed them around, asked if anyone had seen Benny.

“This says he was killed in L.A.,” one of the boys said. “Shouldn’t you be looking there?”

“He hung out here too,” I said. I have the postcard he sent, the one with the river and the mountain on the front and Doing fine, don’t worry on the back. Like all the rest of the cards, it’s addressed only to you, his mother.

“I bet the fuzz are useless,” the boy said. “I bet they could give two shits about a dead black kid.”

What the hell do you know about anything? I wanted to reply, but I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut. “There’s a telephone number there for an answering service,” I said. “I’m offering a reward for information.”

“Money makes the world go round,” the boy said. He tapped another kid with the Frisbee and told him to go long. Even with the hair, the beads, and the beard, he dreamed of being a quarterback, an all-American hero. The other kid sprinted across the grass. The quarterback sailed the Frisbee to him and whooped and clapped when he made a diving catch. The girls went back to dancing with the dog.