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August 2, 2008
Since I was standing closest, the best man fell ... slowly ... into my arms. The gun had gone off three times, of that I'm certain. Of course, I'd never held a dying man in my arms before. I'm not Catholic, I'm Presbyterian. Everyone was screaming and shouting. The bride was either in shock, or she wasn't surprised at all: I never thought to ask. It was just a gig to me; I hardly knew anyone there; I was filling in for another pastor who was sick with a migraine headache.

My court allowed me three months off my duties.