Isabella and her husband Francesco sit down for dinner. They say grace and eat quietly. When they were done eating, Isabella gets up to clear the table. Francesco takes a dish from her hand and asks her to sit down. Before Isabella could question the troubled look in her husbands face, he placed a telegram in her hand.

"This telegram was received early this morning."

Within seconds, Isabella gasped at what she was reading. "How is this even possible? "This has to be a prank telegram."

Francesco embraced his wife. He whispered in her ear, "The clean up can wait until morning."

He stands her up, walks her to her bed and tucks her in. Francesco could hear his wife's cries from his bed.  He made the sign of the cross and asked the good Lord to comfort his Bella.

A few short hours later the rooster crows. Isabella is awoken and sits up in her bed. The telegram still weighing heavy on her heart and mind does not stop her from starting her day off on her knees. She bows her head in prayer. She rises to her feet and heads to the kitchen. She gazes out the window while cleaning up last nights dinner. She spots the young lad  that delivers The Italian Tribune. She wipes her hands dry on her apron and heads to the front door to get the morning news.

The front page headlines confirmed the telegram from her niece NRA.

RIP was a kid writing in red on the wall and when he heard the policesiren he ran like hell and got away.