The note he left mentioned four classmates by name. “I can’t take it anymore, Dad,” he’d written. “They won’t stop. Every day they say I should kill myself. Now they’ll be happy.” The police called it “unfortunate but not criminal.” The school principal offered “thoughts and prayers” then suggested we have the funeral during school hours to “avoid potential incidents.” I’d never felt so powerless. Couldn’t protect my boy while he was alive. Couldn’t get justice after he was gone.

“Heard about your boy,” he said, standing awkward on our porch. “My nephew did the same thing three years back. Different school, same reason.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded.

“Thing is,” Sam continued, looking past me like the