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<title>Remember Brian Deneke</title>
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<h1 align="center">Remember Brian Deneke</h1>
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<div align="center"><img src="http://www.angelfire.com/punk3/guitarchild/brian.jpg"></div>
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<!--Freetext-->Take a look at the picture above. <p>
What do you see?<p>
What do you think?<p>
Weird?<p>
Scary?<p>
Cool?<p>
Or different?<p>
Above is Brian Deneke. Brian was a punk. He was killed on December 12, 1997 because of it. At the age of 19. He was killed because he looked different then everyone else. Just because he didn't play a sport, or have designer clothing, had a different hair color and taste in music, he was killed by someone his own age. Dustin Camp ran him over with his Caddy, saying right before making contact with Brian's body, "I'm a ninja in my Caddy". He ran over Brian, leaving him dead right on contact. Dustin was let off way too easily with a fine of $10,000 and ten years on probation. The following paragraph(s) were quoted from www.briandeneke.org and I give them complete credit for writing this. <p>
<i>It lasted, at most, two or three seconds. Enough time to send a million impulses that ripped through her mind like neural buckshot. <p>

They are stuck there as memories today, two years later, and Elise Thompson can feel them viscerally; she recalls the sounds, sights and sensations as though they were unfolding before her now.<p> 

The place is Amarillo, around 11 p.m. on December 12, 1997, a sharply cold winter night; she sees patches of snow on the asphalt. <p>

She is sitting in the backseat of her friend's enormous Cadillac, and she is jerking her eyes from window to window as "chaos" wraps itself around her.<p> 

The car is moving. <p>

She cannot form words, cannot breathe. Jagged images of bats and batons and chains crosscut the shadowy outlines of human figures chasing each other, grappling on the pavement. <p>

Clubs and chains slam against glass and metal. The car turns, jumps a curb. She braces herself against the movements.<p> 

She hears the driver's words, floating up from the chaos, divorced from all context: "I'm a ninja in my Caddy." <p>

She turns forward, straightens up in the middle of the backseat. Directly in front of the car, she sees a man with his arm raised up, his back to the grille. He is dressed in punk-rocker regalia. He is holding a black stick.<p> 

Instantly he turns. He is looking right at her. The look, she says, is "complete terror." <p>

The car does not stop. <p>

The man's body seems to roll onto the hood, then is sucked under. She feels one bump, then another.<p> 

She is hoping, desperately, that it is the median, not flesh.<p> 

She turns again, looking out the back window, and sees a crumpled figure on the pavement, limbs splayed, blood everywhere. A girl is running toward the body. <p>

She hears more words from the driver; they have faded edges, they are less distinct. "I bet he liked that." <p>

The car does not stop.</i> <p>
-Julie Lyons Punks Jocks and Justice <p>
"Brian did not die because he deserved to. Brian did not die because he asked to. Brian died because he was different. He was a nonconformist. He was an Individualist. He was a free spirit. Brian was also a thoughtful and caring young man, a good son, a good friend. His life was full of promise. His murder deprived this community of someone who had already begun to make a difference to it and no doubt would have made an even greater difference in the future. Brian Deneke is gone. His death has left a divided city, a shocked city, a hurt city in its wake. It has also left us a memory of who Brian was and what he stood for. That memory can serve either a negative purpose or a positive one."- <i>Brian Deneke Organization</i> <p>
Brian. Brian Deneke forever. <p><!--EndFreetext-->
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<a href="http://www.angelfire.com/punk3/guitarchild/page1">Go Back</a><br>
<a href="http://www.briandeneke.org">BrianDeneke.org</a><br>
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