Around 2001, while I was living in Adrian, MI with my husband (ex husband now) Ben, we had an encounter with a young man we did not know. We lived on the second floor in the back of an apartment complex. One day in the summer Ben came upstairs and told me there was a guy out front that was hurt. Ben didn't know what to do and he wanted me to come down and see him. Not that I would know what to do. When we got out there I saw a young black man who was a little bloody and looked kind of wary. He said his name was Marcus. He was originally from Adrian but had moved to Monroe, MI at some point. He had taken off his white tee shirt and had used it to wipe off some of the blood. At first I tried to get Marcus to come up to our apartment and clean himself up. He said no. I asked if we needed to call the police. He said no. We offered to take him to the hospital. He said no. What else was there to do? He wasn't saying much and I was out of ideas. The basic gist of his story was that he had jumped out of a car going down the road where our apartment complex was located. Ben thought Marcus probably had a broken jaw. He didn't want to tell us any real details. Finally he agreed to let Ben drive him to a relative's house on the other side of town. We only had a small pick up truck at the time. We couldn't all three go. As Ben and Marcus drove out of the parking lot I felt a little nervous for the first time. It hadn't occurred to me to be afraid of Marcus until that moment. And I don't think I was afraid of him really. I was afraid of the situation. Something bad had happened and now Ben was with him. And someone might be driving around looking for the guy that jumped out of their car while they were driving down our road. After a while Ben came back. Marcus had opened up a little more on the drive. He said he had been at his sister's apartment a couple of miles from where we lived. He was in the parking lot when a car pulled up with some guys pointing guns at him telling him to get in. He got in. They told him they were going to drive out into the country and kill him. We lived on the outskirts of town. He said he knew if he didn't jump out on our road he wouldn't get the chance. The next road they would turn on would have a higher speed limit and nothing on either side except fields. He told Ben he didn't know the men in the car. He thought they thought he was someone else. He tried to tell them but they didn't want to hear it. Ben dropped Marcus off where he asked and noticed as he drove away that Marcus didn't go up to the house he asked to be dropped off in front of. He didn't trust us. That was the last I saw of Marcus. The following year a girl I worked with in a department store was talking about how her boyfriend was waiting to pick her up as we closed the store. She was trying to hurry. She don't want to keep him and his friend waiting. She joked with another girl about setting her up withe the boyfriend's friend. She said his name was Marcus and he was in town visiting. He was originally from Adrian but was living in Monroe. I immediately connected the dots and asked what he looked like and how old he was. I told her what happened the previous year. We came to the conclusion that must be him. Not too long after that, maybe just weeks even, my coworker told me Marcus had been killed. He was shot in a drive by style shooting. They thought the shooting had been a case of mistaken identity.