Hello. Don't recognize me? That's OK, I understand. My name was Antonio West. I was the 13-month old child who was shot in the face at point blank range by two black teens who were attempting to rob my mother, who was also shot. I think my murder and my mommy's wounding made the news for maybe a day, and then disappeared.
A Grand Jury of my mommy's peers from Brunswick, Georgia ruled the black teens who murdered me will not face the death penalty. Too bad it was me who got the death sentence from my killers instead, because Mommy didn't have the money they demanded.
See, my family made the mistake of being white in a 73% non-white neighborhood, but my murder wasn't ruled a "hate crime." Oh, and President Obama didn't take a single moment to acknowledge my murder. He couldn't have any children who could possibly look like me, so why should he care? I'm one of the youngest murder victims in our great Nation's history, but the media didn't care to cover the story of my being killed in cold blood.
There isn't a white equivalent of Al Sharpton, because, if there was, he would be branded a "racist." So no one's rushing to Brunswick, Georgia to demonstrate and demand "justice" for me. There's no White Panther party, either, to put a bounty on the lives of the two black teens who murdered me. I have no voice, I have no representation and, unlike those who shot me in the face while I sat innocently in my stroller, I no longer have my life.
Isn't this a great country? So while you're out seeking justice for Trayvon or Michael Brown, please remember to seek justice for me. Tell your friends about me, tell your families, get tee-shirts with my face on them, and make the world pay attention, just like you did for Trayvon and Michael Brown. I won't hold my breath. I don't have to anymore.