Born on the Fourth of July, Brandon was a bright, happy little boy, smart as a whip in elementary school, after which he began questioning authority. Always a fighter for peoples' rights, I used to tell him he'd probably become a civil rights lawyer. Bucking the system became his favorite pastime. The only problem was he didn't understand that drugs are unforgiving and they are one thing you can't try, and walk away from if you have a predisposition for addiction. And, unfortunately, there is still no way to know that before it is too late.

Brandon loved fishing, never missed an opening season from the time he was 5 years old.

He was the younger one in his crowd, but for some reason, he was always the leader. He was a true friend to all of them, protecting them even if it meant taking all the blame himself. He always made me promise not to blame his friends for anything. He said they did not make him do anything. In retrospect, I doubt anyone could make him do anything. His personality was just too strong.

His greatest assets were his sense of humor and a smile that lit up the room.

Brandon was known to his friends as "Biz" because he could never sit down. He was always on the go, always doing something.

On February 23, 2003, Brandon used heroin at a friend's house and lapsed into a coma. On March 6, 2003, we had his respirator turned off. This was the hardest thing I will ever do in my life, but the EEG showed extensive brain damage due to lack of air, and I know Brandon would not have wanted to live like that - never to get out of bed or know anything again. I had to take the pain and live with it so he wouldn't have to. I only hope he knows that, and knows how loved he was.