Duck Hunting Gone Awry  I'm duck hunting with others. There is one person next to others and I around the swampy area. I'm worried about accidentally shooting someone. Lines of fire seem to encounter people frequently. My friend Stephen Ramos is there. He looks over and sees his brother Jose lying face down: he has been shot! Stephen doesn't take this seriously. He waits a bit before walking over to see Jose. I'm paranoid. I think I could have been the one who shot Jose. We walk over to Jose. Stephen turns over Jose's body. There are several small holes in his head, which I think are from a .22 caliber rifle, which clears me from responsibility because I'm using a shotgun. I run to get help. My friend Nat Miller follows me with a whistle. Others get my attention and we stop. Jose's death was a hoax. We hunt. I see ducks, but they are sparse and fly fast. My shotgun doesn't work well for me. I misfire a lot, and have the safety on when I want it off. I'm having difficulty firing when I want to. I fiddle with the gun, trying to get it to work. A large flock of Canada geese is well within range right in front of me. My friend Kevin Simpson comes up next to me; we take aim. There are geese tightly packed on the water, and it seems more geese are on top of these, up to several feet off the water. The geese scatter. I misfire. I try to fire again at a goose that is close, just as it's taking off. It slows and sinks into the water. I happy, I finally shot a goose! It begins to float. I grab its head of black hair and lift it out of the water. It's not a goose, but a boy! He is hit in three or four places with pellets: in the head and upper body, and won't live. I'm horrified! I have shot a person! I try to comfort the dying boy, give him what I can. I caress his limbs and hold him in my arms. I try to keep him warm, hugging him. The boy is wearing shorts. He has about three-inch long black hair and darker skin. I think he's Mexican. People seem to discount the seriousness of what has happened. I'm in shock. I feel shameful, guilty, and disgusted with myself. I feel like crap.