Zach looked back down at his skateboarding shoes. "We're coming up on the anniversary of this incident." The state of Florida, renowned for imposing death sentences, was seeking one for 20-year-old Nik.
#Zachary cruz school shooting prevention program trial
"We would like to have a trial date to work toward," a prosecutor was telling the judge. But Nik's head was turned to the side, facing away from him. Zach noticed his hair had been buzzed short again. For this January hearing, Nik was wearing new glasses. He craned his neck to get a better view of his brother. In the months since, Zach had been ostracized by his community, involuntarily confined to a psychiatric facility, arrested twice, kicked out of his guardian's home, taken in by strangers who moved him 900 miles north to Virginia, and blamed, not so much by others but by himself. Zachary Cruz was 17 when his older brother became one of the deadliest school shooters in American history. Some of those people were here in the courtroom, and sliding into a bench beside them now was another person whose life was derailed that day. More: Advocacy is Parkland student's salve for wounds from 2018 school shooting Hundreds more had their lives upended: parents suddenly without children, students rallying for gun control by day and dealing with panic attacks at night, first responders denounced for the choices they made amid the chaos. Seventeen others were injured, left with lasting scars, physical and mental.
Fourteen students and three staff members were killed last Valentine's Day at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High in Parkland.
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