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      I was 6 years old when I witnessed my first hate crime. It was about 11 pm on Christmas Eve when my dad got a phone call, "Hello," he answered with a monotone voice void of emotion. "Are you sure?" He asked as his eyes widened, almost jumping from his chair in the livingroom. "Terrific! Absoloutley terrific!" He exclamined walking into my room. "I will be there as soon as possible." He hung up the phone and crouched down to my bed. "Wake up my little man," he whispered to me, "Get up real quick, we have to go somewhere for a few minutes." He said in a hushed voice while picking me up from my bed and holding me in his arms. "But what about Santa Claus?" I asked in a half asleep daze. 

    "If we're not here when he comes I won't get any presents." I proclaimed, still on the brink of falling asleep. "No need to worry about that," my father exclaimed in a calming tone, "Santa will still bring you your presents, there's no need to worry. But we have to go do something real quick, daddy is in a hurry." He wrapped a coat around me and took me out into the cold December air. Their was a dense fog wrapped around our neighborhood. It was almost impossible to see past a hundred feet. 

   My father opened the passenger side door of his truck and put a seat belt on me. "Now Santa wants you to be a good boy and get your sleep so you can wake up nice and early to play with all your new toys. Can you do that for him my little man?" I nodded and immediately fell back asleep. During the car ride I would occasionally wake up and see street lights peeking through the fog like a guiding light. Leading me and my father to the destination he desired. I fell back asleep and before I knew it I awoke and looked up and saw nothing but absolute darkness.

    We were no longer in town, we were now in the middle of the woods. My father opened his door quietly and walked out of the truck. Shutting the door as gently as he could to not awake me. My eyes slowly opened as I tried to stand myself up for a better view of where we were. I crawled over to the drivers' side door and wiped the condensation off the window to get a better look of what was going on outside.

    Through the patch of fog I could see about 6 or 7 trucks in a circle with the headlights piercing through the dense fog to show a group of 8 or 9 of my father's best friends circled around an African-American american man who's legs were tied up to his hands, like a pig ready to roast. They were all standing around him laughing and mocking him. Either spitting on his already cold and wet face or giving him a swift kick to his ribs. Each time the man would scream so loud that it could even be heard over the laughter of the group of men surrounding him.

     My father was walking up to the group, and when they saw him they all froze, straightened up and threw their left arm in the air, pointed at my father. My dad simply raised his left hand up, palm showing towards his men. "I want to thank all of you great men who made this possible tonight!" He proclaimed, "It almost brings tears to my eyes how you men would go through such lengths to help our great cause." 

     His words were met with a loud cheer that got even louder as he grabbed a metal baseball bat from one of the men in the crowd. He then raised his left hand again as the entire woods went silent. "Now, my men, is the time we have waited many months for! The time that this piece of trash gets what he deserves!" He then turned back to the crowd and asked, "Is it fair that many white people of our nation are wrongfully sentenced for crimes they commit when rats like this get by without any punishment?" A deafening "No!" was yelled from the crowd. They were starting to get antsy at this time, and wanted to see some action.

     "So," my father yelled while raising his arms, "Is it time for us to show this piece of garbage that just because he is black that he should get special treatment? Isn't it time to show real justice?" The crowd yelled "Yes!" My father's face had a sinister grin as he looked down at the man, who was shaking uncontrollably at this point. Trying to release himself from the ropes that he was tied to with as much energy as he could.

     My father bent down and stared at the man with cold, dark eyes, "Are you afraid we're going to hurt you?" He asked, still smiling. "The man looked at my dad with tears in his eyes and yelled "I'm sorry please forgive me!" My father then yelled in his face, "Sorry! Don't tell me you're sorry! There's a beautiful white woman who was killed because of you drinking and driving! No," he said as he started to stand up and hover over this man, "You need to be punished, sorry isn't going to cut it here. You see, me and my friends here think trash like you to get punished for their actions. There's no free rides in this world, and you have to answer for your actions."

     My father then grasped the baseball bat tightly with both hands and raised it over his head, "Are you a God fearing man!" He yelled, my heavy breathing fogging up the window. All I could see is a blur of my father as he swung the baseball bat down upon the man's skull. There was a cheer from the crowd as he kept swinging, as if all the anger in the world was being let go on this one man.

     I then ran back to the passanger side seat and closed my eyes, trying to fall asleep before my father got back to the truck. If he knew I had seen what happened, he would be very angry with me for not following his orders. In about 20 minutes I finally ended up dozing off, with what I had seen still fresh in my mind.

     The next morning I awoke and ran downstairs to see a great sight. There were boxes, big and small, that were full of surprises just for me. I ran back upstairs and found my father still asleep in his bed. I climbed up and started shaking him to wake him up."Dad! Dad! Santa came!" I exclaimed with childish joy. My dad slowly started sitting up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Alright," he said while still half asleep, "let's go downstairs and see what we got from our friend Santa Claus!" He picked me up from his bed as I giggled and was hoisted upon his shoulders. As we walked down the steps to the livingroom my dad said to me "Your uncles George and Richard are coming over this morning to visit us for awhile."

    George and Richard are two of my father's closest friends. They do anything he tells them to, no matter what it is, his orders are above the law to them. As we reached the livingroom my dad brought me down to the ground and I ran straight to the presents. "Johnathan!" My father yelled at me with such sternness that the King of England would shake in his boots, "We need to wait for our guests, Now let's eat some breakfast first and talk real quick, okay?" "Okay," I replied, trying not to sulk. If my dad saw me sulking on a day where I had no school and got toys and gifts for nothing he would surely spank me and tell me that I need to appreciate what I have,

    As my dad cracked the eggs onto the pan he turned to me and said, "Now Johnathan, I need you to be honest with me, okay?" "Okay," I replied, my mind only on the eggs and bacon I was about to devour before me. "Now, you stayed asleep the entire time in my truck last night, right? You didn't wake up and see anything did you?" "No," I replied while shaking my head, hoping that my father couldn't tell I was lying. "Johnathan, I need you to be honest with me," he said with his blue eyes staring into me like the sharpest icicles on Earth. "No," I replied once more, this time sticking with my lie as if it were the God honest truth. 

"Okay," my dad said as he put a plate of scrambled eggs, crispy bacon and lightly buttered toast that was cooked to a perfect golden brown, "Because what happened last night I had to do for our own good, what I did was to protect us, and no matter what I do I want you to know I do it to protect you. Do you understand?" He asked me while I was eating my breakfast. I made sure to swallow my food before answering, knowing that speaking with a mouth full of food was a rude and disgusting act. "Yes sir," I replied while nodding my head. My dad rubbed my hair and said "You're a good son." There was then a knock at the door, "Ah," my dad said as he tightened his robe, "That's George and Richard, Johnatan after you eat I want you to go upstairs 

and shower and brush your teeth."

     He then walked to the door and opened it to two men who stood six foot tall, blonde, and slender. They both clicked their feet together and raised their right arms up in perfect unison towards my father. My father then raised his right arm, palm facing forward towards them. He then smiled and shook both their hands. "George, Richard, come in please." "Yes Führer," Richard replied with joy in his voice as they both walked in and headed towards the kitchen. Upon entering our dining room Richard exclaimed "Johnathan!" As he rustled the hair on my head, "A little bird told me you have been a good boy this year and got lots of presents from Santa!" 

    "Yep!" I exclaimed with a certain proudness in my voice. Richard looked at me with a smile on his face, he was a six foot tall man with blonde hair that was shaved at the sides and long at the top, his hair always parted to the right with a handful of pomeade that made it shine when it was hit with light. He was a man who had been kind to me ever since I can remember. My dad actually rescued him from homelessness and drug abuse when I was two years old. 

      The story goes that when my father was just starting his NSDAP party in our town, Richard had walked into the old church building my dad and the party bought for their meetings looking for shelter. After hearing that was being used now for such a purpose scared Richard off a little bit, but my dad gently grabbed him by the shoulders and said that he was welcome to join, and that he would be taken care of. 

     I think my dad saw some sort of potential in Richard because in a few months Richard was clean off of drugs and working his way up through the party ranks by doing any job that was asked of him. My dad loved his loyalty and that is one of the reasons he is now one of his most trusted workers. Anything that is asked of him will be done, no questions asked. He would one day tell me that my dad had saved his life and that he owed him for the new life he was given.

     George interrupted Richard's greeting with me with a sternness. Saying, "Okay, we have business we need to talk about with the Führer before we have our little fun." George looked at Richard with a razor sharp stare that is the thing of nightmares. I could never understand how such a soul could be brought into this world that was as cold and as dark as George's. He was a man with few friends, and I think it did not phase him one bit. He was also six foot tall with the same haircut as Richard's, except that the hair on the top of his head was slicked back with an amount of gel that must have cost him a fortune to keep paying for.

   Richard's smile slowly faded away, "Okay, okay, you're right, we have business to attend to," he said as he pulled a tan, large envelope out of the grey wool coat he was wearing. "Should Johnathan be in here while we talk about this?" Richard asked. "No." Quickly replied George with a stare that I couldn't tell if he was glaring at me or not. "This is nothing a child should be around. This is business of the upmost importance." "George is right," my father said while pushing his hair back with his right hand, "Johnathan, go upstairs and shower and brush your teeth. We need to talk about some grown up stuff for a bit down here." 

    I jumped down from my chair and ran upstairs to brush my teeth and take a quick shower. I needed to get downstairs as soon as possible to open up my presents. After I got cleaned up and dressed I ran downstairs to hear my dad talking to Richard and George at the table. "So these are the images the police took of the scene?" My dad asked while holding up a large photograph. It was a picture of the African-American man my dad had beat the night before with a baseball bat. And telling by the pictures he did not survive the attack my father had given him. His lifeless corpse covered with bruises, his teeth broken and his face swollen into a black and purple monstrosity.

    "Yeah, Sgt. Michaels is on the case, and he is going to make it seem as though it was an attack brought unto this poor black fellow after a long night of hard drinking." Richard said, "He's going to say that since the black man was a known alcoholic and gambler that he made a bet and didn't pay. Then he was simply attacked by whoever he owed the money to and he died. Simple as that." "And they will be able to find someone who will fit this descreption?" My dad inquired. "Yes," replied George instantly, "You know how these black swine work, they're all after money without any actual work involved!" My dad chucklen and rested a hand onto George's shoulder, "You certainly are correct about that my son.

    My dad then put both his hands on the table and bowed his head and closed his eyes. His voice changed into a more serious tone, "Now, what about the men who were there?" He inquired. "They can be trusted to not say anything about this right?" "Of course," replied Richard in a reassuring tone. "If any of them squeak one little word about what happened last night I will surely take care of them. I am not going to let anyone say anything."

   George then turned his head and saw me standing by the doorway. "Are you spying on us?" He yelled at me. My dad turned around and smiled, "Ah, I think it is time we opened up some presents. It is a holiday after all, we should take some time off work. Let's go see what kind of gifts we were given today." I ran into the livingroom with a burst of energy that couldn't be contained. "Now Johnathan, let's hand out all the gifts to everyone first." I grabbed one gift each for Richard and George and handed them to them with a smile on my face. I then ran back and grabbed my gifts, I had five.

    I was allowed to open mine first. I got a football, a toy robot with flashing eyes that made a laser shhoting sound when they flashed, a few pairs of clothes, and a BB gun. When I took the gun out the box I looked at it with a stare of disbelief that what I was holding in my hands really was mine. I wanted to go outside and shoot it as soon as possible, but I had to wait for George and Michael to open their gifts.

    George opened up his first, it was a razor shard army dagger with an eagle right below the blade, perched on top of a swastika. "Absoloutely stunning," he said with a childlike awe in his stare, "I will make sure to put this to good use, thank you so much." It was now Richard's turn to open his gift. He unwrapped it to find a first edition German copy of Mein Kampf. He lifted the cover to see a signature enscribed unto the first page. "It can't be," he exclaimed to my father. "It is," my father replied with a smile on his face, "I had it verified and everything." Written on the page was an autograph from a man named Adolph Hitler. "Thank you so much, it means a lot, really. Richard said with absolute joy in his voice.

    "Now that we got our presents, how about we set up a target outside for Johnathan to shoot at" My father inquired. "Yeah!" I shouted excitedly. We then went out into the cold winter morning where my dad set up some cans on top of our fence and taught me how to aim and shoot. "You will be practicing with this a lot son,"My dad said with his warm breath being turned into steam from the cold winter weather, "Your gun is your greatest asset, and you should always use it properly.

    "What about your gift sir?" Richard asked my father. My father then smiled and exclaimed, "I got the best gift I could ask for last night son," The three of them the laughed together while a red flag, with a black swastika inside a perfect white circle in the middle, flapped in the wind on top of a flag pole in our front yard.