The class clown-laughter masks the hurt
Courtland Freeman bought his first gun in fourth grade.
For weeks he saved up the $2 allowance his mother would give him. When he had stashed away about $60, he walked to a neighbor’s house down the street and traded the money for a .22-caliber handgun and five bullets.
After a stop by the train tracks to shoot into the air and make sure the gun worked, he brought it home.
Sitting on his bed, the 9-year-old put it to his head and tried to pull the trigger, but something stopped him.
“I seen one of my granddaddies saying it’s not my time, that I got something special to do,” he says.