Drew

Drew was my dad’s friend from Stanford. My dad was a few years older than Drew. They were both lawyers, both had California roots, and both eventually settled in Houston. Drew was one of the few friends my dad had when he was struggling financially and didn’t have many.

After my dad died in 1993, fewer and fewer people reached out to us, including my dad’s siblings. I understand that it’s hard for people, but the few who did reach out meant a lot during those days. It was especially difficult for me because I lacked older men in my life to give me guidance; it was just me, my sisters, and my mom. Drew was one of those few. He helped me with my Boy Scout projects before I eventually stopped. Scouts was tough without a dad. It was hard watching everyone else participate with their fathers.

One day, Drew invited me over and built a skate ramp. He’d built his son two quarter pipes in their pool house, and his son became an incredible skater. I was a BMX rider, but I wanted to do tricks like Drew’s son. So Drew took the time to build me a quarter pipe, which I kept for several years.

I remember getting home after hanging out with friends one night. I was around 14, just starting to go out socially. My mom was in tears, and she and my sisters were all home. She sat me down, looked me in the eyes, and said, “Sam, Drew’s been murdered…” I shuddered. I’d felt that shudder before, five years earlier, when she told me that my dad had killed himself. We got in the car and drove to the police station. Not all of us were able to go inside, so we waited in the car in the dark while my mom went in to meet with Drew’s family.

Drew had been trying to sell his Porsche through a newspaper ad. Someone answered the ad and came to his house. The man pulled a gun. Maybe because he was in Texas, Drew pulled his own gun. The man shot Drew in his garage, stole his Porsche, and left Drew there. He then drove the car to California, where he was involved in a shootout with police before being taken into custody. I don’t remember all the details, but he wasn’t extradited back to Texas and didn’t face the death penalty—something I believed in at the time. Drew’s kids took the stand at the man’s trial. I never heard what happened to him again.

Drew’s death is something I still struggle to wrap my mind around. The murder of my friend. The murder of one of my father figures. The loss of one more piece of my father’s world, abruptly gone. It’s something I’ve never been able to forget. Drew was strong, smart, and kind. People like him don’t deserve to die on the floor of their garage over something as meaningless as a car.

That was another hard lesson for me. You only have people for a certain amount of time. My time with Drew was brief. It was brief for his kids too. But he’s someone I’ll always cherish. He was kind to me when I felt forgotten.

Rest in peace, Drew. You were special to more people than you knew.