It happened the week after my brother was murdered.

His death had been far from peaceful. He had been in a bad area of town when he must have heard the girl scream. Being the big, stupid hero he was, he apparently had run toward the scream rather than call the cops. There had been two big guys trying to rape a girl, and he had stepped in to try to fight them off.  One had pulled a knife and stabbed him. The guy must have been caught up in the heat, because once both guys had realized what had happened, they ran off.

We only knew this because the girl he saved told the cops, and they told us.

He died a hero, but that didn't make it any easier. It only made me angrier. He had done the right thing! Why was he dead and the two rapist-to-be roaming the streets? They were bound to be searching for their next victim. It was as if his death had been for nothing!

I spent most of the week between when we found out and when it happened cursing God.  I was just so, so angry. If someone was as powerful as to create everything from nothing, how could something so absolutely terrible happen? It was something I had heard many times, and I had so easily answered “God's ways are not our own.” Now I could tell how ridiculous I had to sound to everyone, because there was no way this was all for some greater good.

Maybe it was just because of how physically exhausted I was, or maybe it was something much more, but the moment I felt closest to just giving up on there even being a God, I was hit with exhaustion like I had never felt before. I had been in my room, and in less than a minute, I was fast asleep.

And that's when it happened.

I have had dreams before where I'm conscious that I'm dreaming, but I've never had a dream where it felt no different from when I was awake. That's what this dream felt like, but I knew it was a dream, because there was no other way my brother could be standing right in front of me.

His eyes looked sad, so very sad.  It hurt my heart, and I almost flung myself at him, not caring if it was a dream, but then he spoke.

“I am not your brother.  He is.” The brother who said he wasn't my brother nodded to my right.

I looked, and it was then I realized where we were. We were standing near the mouth of some ally, the dark sky above us telling me it was night. I only had a moment to take it all in, because a second later, I saw my brother walking past the mouth of the ally.

I called out for him, but he just kept going. I kept calling as I ran out of the alley after him.  When I tried to grab at him, my hand passed right through him.  

“What's going on?” I demanded, my throat tight. Here my brother was, right in front of me, alive as I remembered him - but I couldn't touch him, couldn't pull him into the suffocating hug I wanted to give him and never let him escape from.

“You wanted to know why I did nothing. Why your brother died. I'm hoping this will answer you.”

I turned to see the other version of my brother, the very sad one that claimed he wasn't my brother. He had walked outside of the alley and was watching my real brother as he walked away.

I looked really hard at him, and I'm not sure what exactly told me who he was.  Maybe it was His words, or maybe it was just some sense He was giving me, but I knew.

He must have realized this, because His smile grew.  He extended His hand to me, revealing a hole going right through it.

“Follow me,” Jesus said, “and you will get your answers.”

I hesitantly put my hand in His. He began to walk after my brother, and I followed.

My brother was talking on his phone. My heart lurched. At this time, he would have been talking to my dad, assuring him he would be home soon.  I wanted to yank my hand away and start screaming at Jesus. My brother had had to break his promise because this supposed savior hadn't protected him.

I was sure he could read my mind at that point because he said, “ Just a few more moments.”

I bit my tongue and waited. We had only walked a little ways more when I heard the scream, and my blood turned cold.  This was the moment that ruined everything.

“Don't!” I screamed, already seeing the decision in my brother’s body. He couldn't play the hero here.  He just couldn't!

My brother took off. I released Jesus's hand and tore after him, all the while pleading with him to stop, hoping he could somehow hear me.  

He didn't stop, and much too soon, we had reached the alley. A hooded man had a young girl pushed up against a wall. Another guy stood beside them, saying something I couldn’t hear, but his words made the girl weep harder.

“Get away from her!” my brother yelled.

“No!”  I reached for him again, but it was no different than before.  “Call the cops, you big idiot,” I cried as the two guys turned to him.

My brother had been quick enough he managed to hit the guy holding the girl. My brother was pretty strong, and the man was sent reeling from the hit. He released his hold on the girl as he tried to regain his balance.

“Run!” my brother ordered.

In that moment, I was very confused. The guy my brother had punched was still recovering, his large form making it hard for his buddy to run around him. The girl reacted very quickly as she sprinted away. It was the perfect situation. How did my brother not escape? All he had to do now was run.

I suddenly heard my brother’s voice, but his mouth wasn't moving. They need to be caught.  I have to make sure they can never do this again.

Horrified, I realized I was hearing my brother’s thoughts, and he wasn't planning on running. He thought he could catch these guys!

“How stupid can you get? Run, you idiot!” I screamed, tears stinging my eyes and my throat burning. My voice needed to reach him. If not…

“You just cost us our night fun,” the one my brother hadn't punched snarled. “Now you'll have to pay the price.”

“You can't just do that to people and get away with it,” my brother snapped while mentally praying, Please, Lord, help me to do this.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” I turned on Jesus and pointed toward my brother. “Please, I know he's being dumb, but help him!”

“I tried. That's what I'm letting you see.” Jesus wouldn't take His eyes off the situation, and feeling a burning mixture of fury and anguish, I turned back to it.

My brother went at the men, and even at two-to-one odds, he did a pretty good job. But he also left many moments in which he could so easily turn and run. All the while, I was screaming, the burning in my throat growing worse and worse.

“Run! Run now! You don't have to be the hero here,” I cried. “This isn't safe. You already saved the girl, so run! Get the cops!” My tears were now falling freely because I knew the moment had to be coming soon, and no matter how long or loud I screamed, my pleas were falling on deaf ears.

I saw the glint of metal only a moment I heard my brother scream. The man who had first spoken had finally drawn out his knife, and although I couldn’t see the wound, I knew. The blow that would kill my brother had finally been dealt, and all I could do was fall to my knees and yell.

“Why? Why why why why why?” I shook with sobs, refusing to actually look at the death as I heard my brother fall. Heard the men panicking as they realized they had just caused a death. “Why wouldn't he listen?”

The noise abruptly stopped as the entire scene froze. Because of this, I jumped when Jesus spoke.

“You asked me how something so terrible could be allowed to happen.”

I looked back at Him, and for a moment, I was taken aback. His face was so vulnerable, so raw as he looked at my brothers and the men. His expression was one of pain, but in His eyes, I saw something I didn't know how anyone could show at a situation like this - love. He was looking at all of them, even the sick men, with love.

“At any moment, a seed could be planted into one of their lives. For example, the way your brother sacrifice himself? Gave the man without the knife a hope in humanity he hasn't had in a long time. It may extinguish. It may change his life. It cannot he certain right now.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I whispered.

“So you will understand. Even if you cannot understand it now, I love each of the men present tonight. And because they are love, my father nor I nor the spirit will take away the free will gifted to them. But, what we will do?”

Rather than finishing, Jesus turned to me and smiled gently.

“You have just stepped into my shoes,” Jesus said. “You tell me.  What will we do?”

I didn't want to answer. I didn't want to acknowledge what I had learned about tonight when it meant seeing that the men who killed my brother was loved. No matter how much I didn't want to see it, though, it was there in my heart, and all I could do was cry.

“You will speak to them,” I said. “You will try to get them to go in the way best for them.”

The tears came harder as I recalled moments before. Screaming at my brother. Pleading with him to do as I said. Begging him to just hear me.  It was all I could do to force myself to continue.

“Just sometimes… Your voice falls on deaf ears.”