My Role Model My Brother

My brother was my role model and my best friend. When we were little we would play catch in the back yard, till he hit me with the ball. I loved to spend time with him. As I got older he would drive me to school, and we would listen to rap music. I never really liked rap music, but I pretended because I knew he liked it. Listening to the music with him was a way to have something in common. My brother was funny and a really bright student in school. Having a brother gave me someone who I could go wrestle with, and he made me tougher. I always wanted to be a great athlete like him, and make him proud.

I was a second grader when the drug phase started. At that time I didn’t know it was drugs. All I knew was my brother was not my brother anymore. …show more content…
The charges were dropped because the cops did an illegal search on him. He was in jail for about 4 months awaiting his trial. When he got out of jail he walked all the way to our house in the country. We live about 5 miles out of town, and he walked there without shoes or a shirt on. He didn’t have shoes because the police had confiscated them. When he got to our house we were all shocked to see him. His hair was longer than mine. His back was covered in mosquito bites, like completely covered. He had a long, shaggy beard, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked very anorexic. I was so scared off him and for him. He didn’t even talk to us he just walked straight inside. I wish I knew how to help him. The next day we tried to talk to him about going to get help that his disorder is taking over his mind and body. That conversation ended with the f word being thrown out a few hundred times and a hole being punched into the wall. Our next step was to set up an intervention. My family wrote letters to him. When we read these to him he wouldn’t even look us in the eye, he sat at the table and laughed at us all. My grandpa, who is a strong headed, spiritual, and hardworking guy, was balling his eyes out. Justin told us he isn’t an addict and doesn’t need help. He just needs a better family. The cops came and got him and took him to a court-ordered rehab, where he just walked out. This rehab was in Des Moines. Justin walked out and somehow found a way home. He lived in our basement for three days without us knowing. When we found out he kept telling us that he was the savior and we were all against him. He would say we want him to be hung on the cross; that it is our fault he can’t get away from the drugs. We took him to the police and don’t know what else to