She was a peculiar person, set in her ways, and her ways were often different from mine. Yet she was kind—very kind. When I was young, she often looked after me. She did her best to care for her children and for those around her. That was simply who she was.
She was my Aunt Francis.
Her life was cut short. This is her story.
Aunt Francis lived with her family in a changing neighborhood. They were not prejudiced people. Many of their friends came from different ethnic backgrounds, and they treated everyone with kindness and respect. Whenever someone in the neighborhood had a need, Aunt Francis was often there to help. She gave away clothing, prepared meals, spoke kindly, and acted generously. That was her nature.
One day she had a doctor’s appointment. Her husband, Elton, worked as a mail carrier and had the family car with him. Aunt Francis did not drive, so she decided to walk.
It wasn’t a short walk—perhaps two and a half or three miles—but she didn’t seem to mind. The exercise would do her good.
She arrived at the doctor’s office, waited her turn, and saw the physician. It was an ordinary appointment. Nothing unusual. Just routine.
Afterward she paid her bill and remarked to the receptionist that it left her with only one dollar in her purse. What could anyone do with one dollar? Even in the early 1970s, it wasn’t much money.
Then she began the walk home.
I often wonder what she was thinking about as she walked. Perhaps she was planning supper. Maybe she was thinking about one of her children and some funny thing they had said or done. Perhaps her thoughts drifted to Elton.
He was a good man. Cheerful. Kind. I never remember hearing a harsh word from him. He loved her deeply, and everyone around them knew it.
Whatever occupied her thoughts, she was simply doing what all of us do when we walk alone. She was thinking.
Then everything changed.
Without warning, five men surrounded her. They did not look friendly. They looked dangerous.
They demanded her purse.
We were later told they wanted money for drugs.
They grabbed at the purse. She resisted. They pulled harder. She refused to let go. Aunt Francis was feisty. It was her purse, and she fought to keep it. The struggle intensified.
Five young men against one woman.
Then… a gunshot shattered the afternoon.
Did she hear it? I don’t know.
Perhaps the sound and the impact came so close together that she never realized what had happened.
The shot rang out, and Aunt Francis fell to the sidewalk.
The men seized their prize and ran.
They fled with a purse that contained only a dollar, leaving behind a wounded woman lying on the pavement of the town she called home.
She died later that evening. Her husband lost his wife. Five children lost their mother.
Life went on, as it always does, but it was never quite the same.
The five men got their dollar. But they did not get away unnoticed.
A taxi driver witnessed the entire crime. He immediately called for an ambulance and the police. Then, remarkably, he followed the men to their home and directed officers straight to them.
One of the men agreed to testify against the others and received a lighter sentence.
The remaining four were convicted.
Then something happened that my family never forgot.
Because of a legal technicality, the four men were released after serving only three years in prison. Ironically, they served less time than the man who cooperated with prosecutors.
My family was outraged.
“No justice!” they said.
“It ain’t right!”
I heard those words repeated for years.
My grandmother, my mother, and Aunt Francis’s husband all carried that bitterness with them. They believed the men who murdered Aunt Francis had gotten away with it.
But I believe differently.
No one ever gets away with anything. God knows. We do not have to carry the burden of ultimate justice because justice belongs to Him.
When the final judgment comes, every deed will be brought into the light. The Judge of all the earth will do what is right. God delights in forgiveness and eagerly extends mercy to those who seek it. But those who remain unrepentant remain accountable for their actions.
Aunt Francis lost her life over one dollar. Five men may spend eternity paying for what they did because of that same dollar.
That thought leads me to another question.
What have we sold for a dollar? What compromises have we made? What sins have we excused? What wrongs remain uncorrected in our lives? Is there anything worth losing eternity over? I cannot think of a single thing.
The Judge of all the earth will do right. He stands ready to forgive. In fact, He longs to forgive. But forgiveness must be sought.
If there is something in our lives that needs to be made right, let us do it now. Before it is forever too late.