It's Only Me,

Those are the conversations that matter most. Given the agony that Williams inflicted on his victims, it is awkward even to discuss the agony he was in. Some friends came to his defense, talked about how badly he had been treated, how the bullies stole his skateboard, stole even the shoes off his feet. Was there, this time, a measure of pity for a lost boy, who seemed to have had nowhere to go, who wore a silver necklace with the word MOUSE on it, who called at least three of his friends' mothers Mom, who in the end seemed to want nothing more than to be taken seriously and to be taken, at last, into somebody's custody?

One night recently police came upon Williams in the park with several huge bottles of beer. "They just told me to go home," he told friends later. His buddies heard him Saturday night, when he got drunk at a bonfire, talk about taking a gun to school and shooting the place up. "I'll show you one day," he said. When it was over, when the police came to take him away, wrapping him in that oversize white jumpsuit, no one heard him say anything about being sorry. And no one heard him ask for anyone, not even his mom or dad.