Dr. Vincent DeGennaro Jr. '02 | Sept. 4, 2013 | Notre Dame Magazine
We purchased cups of freshly sliced mangoes, and I paused to take a one-handed picture of the church located in the middle of the square, the afternoon sun casting shadows on downtown Medellin. A hand was placed softly but firmly over my shoulder, like a stern father directing his child, and I felt a strong pull at my throat. I held my breath and waited for the feeling of a sharp stick of cold metal in the small of my back, blood spilling down my shorts and onto the ground of Plaza Botero.