Dear Collette, For the past four days, I've been thinking about writing this letter. I couldn't write earlier because I was crying. Four days ago, I got the news about Robert. Tears washed away my ink. Friday? Saturday? My brain ping-ponged from one scheme to another – should I march? Should I fast? Should I paint a protest sign? Should I go to Robert's house and pray the rosary on my knees? Should I write a letter to my senator, Cory "Spartacus" Booker? I am as voiceless as a submerged sea sponge. Robert's life didn't matter. My life doesn't...