Billy.

You may have heard about the shootings that have happened in London recently, but the last one that happened is especially close to my heart. Why? Well, when I was younger I used to go to a Thai temple in Wimbledon every week to learn Thai and stuff, like a lot of other people. I also did Thai dancing. Now, you're probably wondering how that shooting on Valentine's Day has any relevance with the fact that I did Thai dancing. I used to do Thai dancing with a girl called Elizabeth. When I was 8 or 9, she was one of my friends there, along with Natasha and the other Thai dancers. You can see us in action here (she's front right and I'm back right).  Her brother Billy was also enrolled in the Thai school, and would occasionally come over to annoy us. I distinctly remember him pushing me down the stairs once, so I can't say I liked him very much. Sorry; this isn't the time or place for bad-taste jokes.
I stopped going to the Thai temple when I was 10 or 11 because the travelling was a pain in the butt. After that, I lost contact with Elizabeth and her family. When my mum came last August to pick up an award from the Princess of Thailand for services to the community or something, I saw Elizabeth and Billy again. We didn't get to speak or anything; everyone was so busy with worrying about the Princess. They'd changed so much.
That was the last time I saw them. Yesterday, I heard about the shooting that had happened in Clapham, but I didn't think too much of it. Today, I saw the picture of the victim.
Billy Cox. Brother of Elizabeth.
Elizabeth was apparently coming home when she found him, dying of a gunshot wound. There was absolutely nothing she could do.
What sort of sick person would shoot a 15 year old cold-blooded, and leave him for his 13 year old sister to find?
I mean, OK, he was in a gang, and used to deal drugs, but from what people know, he was trying to get clean. No one deserves a death like that, no matter who they are.