I never understood where my older brother went, just that he was never coming back.  My mother tried to explain why I would never see him but gave up in frustration.  I never knew where he was last at, only that I was five years old at the time.  My brother was Jackson, and Jackson has been dead for eight years.
     I grew up in a house with my mother and Jackson.  My father has been gone for almost all of my life.  When I was little, I used to think he was coming back, but now I know he is not. 
     Everyday I think about how Jackson used to lift me above his shoulders and spin me around like I weighed nothing.  I would sometimes think of him almost like a dad to me.  He seemed to know how I felt and how to cheer me up.
     I remember the night the police showed up at my house.  I was little at the time and did not understand exactly what was going on.  After they left, my mother came into my room and sat down on my bed and looked at me through red tear-stained eyes.
     “Benny, Jackson is gone,” is all she managed to stifle out before turning and quietly sobbing into her arm.  I hugged her around the waist and said,
     “It`s okay Mama he will be back, he promised to finish his story in the morning.”  she only looked at me with her piercing blue eyes after I said that.  But I almost felt as if she was looking through me when I thought back to that day.  Jackson used to tuck me in at night when my mother was at work and tell me a story before I went to bed.  The night before he ceased to exist, he was telling me an extravagantly long story, and when he heard my mom walk in the door, he kissed me on the top of my head and said,
     “Sorry little dude, I’ll have to finish tomorrow,” before turning and walking out of my room.  I then heard the muffled sounds of him and my mother discussing something.  Then the talking turned into yelling, turned into a slamming door.  After that I heard a car start, and the screech of tires as they hit the road at high speed.  Three hours later, what was left of him and his car was found sitting off of highway fourteen.
     The police never knew what happened, just assumed that he lost control and swerved.  Not knowing exactly how he died, and if he was in any pain was the hardest part after I grew old enough to understand.  I asked to drive by the scene, but my mother never wanted to be reminded.  She would detour around that road every time she needed to drive away from the town. 
     Now in the middle of June, and just turning thirteen, I had started to better accept that he was gone, and live with it.  Only did I bring up Jackson in my mind is when I pass his boxed up room on the way to mine.  My mother insisted leaving the door open, but even a strong mother can only look at the brown boxes so much before losing the rest of her mind.  We closed the door three days after boxing it up.
     I walked to the town park where I was suppose to meet my best friend Aaron.  As I approached the basketball court in the middle of the park, I saw Aaron shooting baskets.  I called out to him as I approached.
     “Never gonna get that bank shot are ya!” He jumped ten feet in the air and spun around to face me.
     “Jeeze Ben don’t sneak up on me like that!  Bout gave me a heart attack.”  I looked at him and laughed.  Something I have been doing alot more recently.  For the rest of the afternoon we shot baskets and joked about people at our school.  At about six I hollered over to him on the other side of the court.
     “Sorry Aaron gotta go home.”  He looked at me with piercing hazel eyes and nodded to me.
     “Alright bud see ya tomorrow.”  I waved one last time and turned towards my house.  As I walked the four blocks to my house, I heard an ever so faintly “Hey Little Man!” and I froze where I was standing.  This struck me as kind of odd due to the fact the only person that ever called me “Little Man” was.. Jackson.  And then it hit me as kind of far fetched so I continued my walk home. 
     And then As I rounded the corner to my house I heard it again.  Just faintly as if someone was whispering it, “Little Man!”.  I jumped that time because it was not just my nickname but it sounded so urgent.  I picked up my pace and continued home.  This was starting to creep me out. 
     My mom’s red coupe was sitting in the drive, so I assumed she came had come home early.  My mom was a moderately sized person with an attractive face and in her early forties. Her bright blues eyes,which both of her sons had, could see through any fib or lie.  I opened the door with a loud groan as it protested against the sudden movement.  My mom heard me and called to me from the kitchen.
     “Hey honey!  Just got home and have started to cook tacos!”  My Mom’s tacos are my favorite meal and she often made them a couple of times a month.  Mouth watering, I could barely respond.
     “Great Mom, thanks! I’ll be in my room if you need me!”
     “Okay, I’ll let you know when supper is ready!”  I headed to my room and watched t.v for a bit before supper.  After I ate, I took a shower and laid down.  I fell asleep about eleven o’clock.  A little after that is when the dream started.
     I was walking down a road.  No, not just any road, it was highway fourteen, the road my brother died on.  I walked, and like jewels glittering in the light of the moon, broken glass littered the tarmac.  But this is different, in the ditch ahead lays the still smoking wreck of my brothers brown car.  I spot movement and see a figure trying to wiggle out of the wreck.  His legs are stuck in the frame of the door and most of his body is bent in odd angles.  Then I realize he is trying to say something.
     I wake up in a cold sweat and wipe a clammy hand over my forehead.  This would usually not strike me odd, I dreamed about him occasionally when I was younger, but I had never actually seen the wreck, let alone the spot where it was.  I wrapped my shivering body in my blanket, even though the room was not that cold.  I tried to go back to sleep, but ended up going on and off in little sleeping fits.
     As soon as the sun peeked over the horizon at about six thirty, I was awake and dressed.  I headed downstairs and made myself a bowl of cereal. Despite how early it is, my mom was already gone for work.  I finished my cheerios and headed out the door.  No matter how hard I tried,I could not forget about the voice yesterday, and the dreams last night.  It struck me in a funny spot, and I wonder if he is trying to send me a message about something.  Maybe there was foul play involved in his death. At least if there was I would have closure. I decided to head over to the police station.
     I asked to see the police officer that had found the car accident if I could talk to him.  Luckily he still worked at the station.
     “What can I help you with young man,” he asked in a casual tone.I looked at him and stopped myself from riddling him with questions.
     “My name is Benjamin Ratkey, and I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about my older brother Jackson Ratkey.” He scratched his chin and displayed a puzzled look. After a minute he turned kind of white and looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes.
     “Ahh yes, young Jackson, what a tragedy that was.  Ask as you will and I will try to provide as accurate details as I can recall.”  He then pointed to a small office in the corner of the station and motioned me in.  I took a seat on the 1980`s looking chair and waited until he was seated.
    I took a deep breath and asked, “Exactly how was he found, my brother I mean”.  He looked at me for a second and started to shake his head.
     “We had a person come to the station in a panic and reported a car on the side of the road.  We sent out an rescue team and when we arrived, he was fighting for his last few breaths.  The EMTs tried everything, but there was a puncture wound to his chest”. I took a minute to comprehend what he was saying and put it in with the dream I had last night.  He took a sip of the coffee on his desk and continued.
     “When we first arrived at the wreck, he pulled himself out of the car and starting half dragging, half crawling across the grass.  When we got closer, we realized he was sobbing and saying “I'm so sorry Benny, I'm so sorry I let you down little man” and stopped his effort when we arrived”.  The “little man” part made a sudden ache run through my heart.  I also wondered why he was saying sorry.
     “Did you suspect any foul play in his death, or was it straight forward an accident?’ I asked with all of the hope I had left.
     “We had our thoughts due to multiple tire tracks on the road but never linked anything to anybody.  One more thing before you go Benjamin, He was trying to say another name before he lost consciousness, No one really understood him but it sounded in the neighborhood of dave or dan or something like that.”  My heart felt like it was going to explode.  The only person in our family with that name, including friends, was.. our dad!  Davie had been responsible for the accident.
     “Thank you for your time and cooperation.  I will call if I think of anymore questions if that is alright.”
     He looked at me with a hint of sorrow and nodded, “Anytime Benjamin, I will have the lady at the front desk give you my card incase you decide to call”.  I stood and shook hands with him, then made my way to the front desk.  As I approached, the lady at the desk flashed one of her best rehearsed smiles, and handed me a card with a phone number.  I returned the fake smile and thanked her before leaving.  I hopped on my bike and started back towards my house.  I tried to make sense of it all. 
     The only time I heard of my dad trying to make and attempt towards our family was the night he called my mother.  Wait a minute, wasn't that the night Jackson left?  It couldn’t be!  But just as clearly as i had heard Jackson’s voice, it was right there in my head.  The call, the screaming, Jackson coming home, my mom and him him talking, and then.. him leaving.  I don't think he planned on staying gone, just to take care of business.  I no longer thought that it was one of Jackson’s crazy temper tantrums.
     When I arrived at home it was nearly six thirty.  My mom would be home in about a half an hour, so I decided to look for anything that could help me such as a picture of my father.  The first place I looked was the photo albums in my moms closet.  She kept hundreds of pictures of family and friends in there.  sure enough, after five or so minutes I found an older picture that was creased in the middle of the man.
     My father was a burly man just a year older than my mom.  He was attractive in the picture, but the date on the back said it was more than fifteen years old.  My father was there for part of jackson’s life, but left just weeks after my mother became pregnant with me.  He decided he didn’t like the people he was with, and didn’t want another so he perished one night.
     I pocketed a picture of Jackson and put the albums back where they were . Just as I closed her door, I heard the front door open.  She was home again early not to my surprise.  I walked down stairs and greeted her just as she was taking her shoes off.
     “Mom,can I ask you something?” She sighed and then sat down on the couch obviously in pain.
     “Sure, but since I am doing something for you, you have to get me tylenol after this.  Deal?”
     “Deal, now the night that Jackson left my father was on the phone wasn't he?”
     “How did you know that?”
     “I talked to the cop that found jackson`s car that night.  Besides me, the only other name he said was “Davie” and I already knew his name.  I dont believe that Jackson died due to an accident.  I need you to tell me everything that he said that night.”  She looked at me and seemed to be mulling over the idea.
     “He wanted to try to regain custody of you but got angry when i wouldn't agree.  He said he would find us and take you from Jackson and I.  He only threatened this because last time he called, Jackson picked up.  He told your father that if he ever came close to his family, he would break his legs and his ego.  He them told Jackson If he got in his way, he would guarantee it would be the last time.”
     I looked at her in disbelief before input what I thought.
     “This is why I don't believe it was an accident!  The threats, the drive, the stress between everybody!  He killed Jackson!”  By now tears were streaming from my eyes and rolling down my nose where they hit the hardwood floor with a small splash.
     “Easy buddy.  We don't know that for sure.”  She wrapped an arm around me and I fell into her embrace.
     “Mom,  I've been having dreams about Jackson again.”
     “That`s normal sweetie you used to”  I cut her off mid sentence.
     “It`s not like the old dreams that I used to have where the events actually happened before, I am now seeing things that I have never even in my life seen.
     “What are you talking about.”
     “I saw the car crash before the cops even arrived at the scene.  I saw the car speeding away, and Jackson trying to get out of his mangled car.”
     “Benny, stop messing with me!  That is really scary!”
     “Mom, I am not messing with you, it all happened last night, It was very creepy.  What kind of car does he drive or did drive?”
      “It was an older blue chevy why?”  I thought back to the dream really hard and closed my eyes.  As clear as day, an older blue car is once again speeding away from my brothers wreck.  Even the license plate number is as clear as the pleas from Jackson.
     “Mom call the police.”
     “Why, do you know something?”
     “Yeah, do you remember that stop light a little up the road from Jackson`s wreck where you got a ticket because you ran it and they had a traffic camera?”
     “Yeah, I do that was, crazy.”
     “Well I bet if an older blue car with the license plate number 45rt8q went speeding by, it would snap a picture right?”
     “Yeah, it would, but why 45rt8q? ”
      “That is the license plate number on the car he used to have.”
     “How do you know that?”
     I told you, the dream.  And if we get him to admit and juke out of his alibis, he will be put away for a very long time.  Him speeding down the road away from the wreck just minutes before someone notified the police seems a little fishy.  I think we have this.”  She looked at me with a proud twinkle in her eyes, and hugged me really tight.
     “I`ll get the phone.”
Three months later

     They looked through the camera records back to that day and sure enough, he was right there in the log going ninety-seven miles per hour in a fifty-five away from the crash.  We took him to court, and by our second hour he was sweating and knew he was going to have to admit sometime.  He finally spilled his guts and told the judge and the whole court what he had done.  He received 187 years in a penitential correction facility with no bail.
     Knowing now exactly how Jackson died sucks, but we can sleep a little easier.  He is not really gone, he is still here with us in a way.  Just because his body is six feet under ground, his presence is still very strong.  He even found a way to communicate with both my mother and I.  This was a twist in the story that life gave us, a flaw that we recovered from, we will always remember Jackson.