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Billy the Kid
Billy was always a kid at heart. That is why it hurt so much when he was taken away. Billy Rice was born in 18, much like the rest of the kids in my class. I met Billy in the 4th grade. He had just transferred in from out of town. We went to Saint Patrick's elementary and then proceeded on to Holy Trinity Catholic Middle School. Billy and I developed quite a relationship through all of the years together in school. He was a great athlete and we both were always captains on the playground teams. I have to mention we had one of the fiercest rivalries when it came down to being squared off against one another. This is what exactly brought us to be such great friends. We later would team up on our middle school teams to basically dominate every field or court we stepped on. I would never have guessed back then that Billy would get distracted and ultimately pay for it. It was late March, 000, and Billy had just come by my house to shoot some hoops in the back yard. Billy was going to spend his Spring Break in Israel with his dad so he came by to get in one last game of one-on-one before he took off for the Promised Land.
I spent my Spring Break with my family, all six of us down in Key Largo, Florida. It was a great time just relaxing and hanging out with all of my brothers. My mom and I had to leave two days before everybody else because I had to get back for the State AAU tournament. After packing up and getting on the plane, I was happy to be heading home. It was a Wednesday night and I planned on leaving in the morning to go to Greensboro, North Carolina for my tournament. I still remember my plane taking off at 845pm that Wednesday night. I got into Charlotte about 11pm that night. My mom and I drove home and I went right to bed, exhausted from the day of travel.
That morning I got up around seven because my first game would be at noon in Greensboro, which was a good two hour drive. As I put my bag into the car to head out, the phone rang. From that point on, I am not sure what happened. All I specifically remember is my mom talking to Peter's mom, one of my other friends. My mom put on that panic face and was just saying "Calm down, calm down" to Pete's mom. Mom told me to go get the paper. I ran outside and was wondering what could have happened, did something happen to Peter? What was it? Having somewhat of a clue as to what may have happened I got out the Local News section and skimmed the front page. Down in the bottom right of the page was a story about two Charlotte Catholic (my High School) kids who were killed last night at 851pm in a car accident.
Billy left one of his other friend's houses around 845pm that Wednesday night. Katie, his girlfriend, was also with him. Knowing what I know now, Billy had six beers before he left to take Katie home. He was driving on Park Road, a four lane road with a median. I later found out he tried passing somebody on the right and lost control of his Honda Accord. It hit the right curb, spun across the median and smacked right into an oncoming fire truck which was responding to a false alarm. Both Billy and Katie were killed instantly.
I obviously was devastated for a long time about losing one of my best friends. I questioned everything, why did that fire truck have to be at that spot right at that moment? Would he have been killed if I were in Charlotte? Would I have been with him? After about a year of denial and hard feelings, I began to take the best thing I could out of the entire situation. Maybe one of the toughest lessons I will ever have to live, but I really learned the dangers of drinking and driving. I also realized how important your friends can be to you and what it is like when they are gone for good. I began to appreciate many aspects of my life which would have gone unnoticed if it weren't for Billy, such as relationships and family. It is hard to say, but I, along with some other of my close friends, thank Billy in a way. We thank him for all he taught us. We all know one day we will meet again, and it will be just like the old times on the fields.
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