On July 1, Rabbi Shlomo Noginski was minding his own business outside of a Jewish school in Brighton, Mass. A man walked up to him, pointed a gun at him, and demanded he open his van, ostensibly to kidnap him. Then the man pulled out a knife and started stabbing the Rabbi — eight times — as the Rabbi attempted to flee to a park across the street.
“People judge you by the company you keep.”
It was the second week of February in 1994. I was in my freshman year of college, and most of my closest friends worked at the theatre in Tamarac Square in Southeast Denver. Tombstone was still running, and just a week prior, Schindler’s List was released. I popped in to meet a buddy who was finishing his shift. What I saw when I walked through the door stopped me cold in my tracks.
“He used to work out at my gym. Dude is off his rockers.”