On Sunday morning, the nation woke to yet another heartbreaking tragedy. A 29-year-old man, Leyandrew Hubbard, was gunned down while reportedly playing cards with friends beneath a roadside shed in Potters. Another young man now lies in hospital, critically injured, fighting for his life.
Tomorrow there will be another funeral to plan, another grieving family, another community searching for answers.

But this letter is not for the dead.

It is for the young men who will gather on that same street corner tomorrow. Under that same Barnes family shed in Potters.
Yes, you.

You who spend your days leaning against walls, sitting under sheds, gambling, smoking, drinking, and convincing yourselves that “the street” is where you belong.

You say, “I love the street.”

But ask yourself this: Does the street love you back?

If you are reading this letter today, it means you were not the one who died in Potters.

But the uncomfortable reality is that it could have been you.

Bullets do not ask whether you are the intended target. They do not care whether you were “just there,” “just watching,” or “just playing cards.” In a split second, an ordinary Sunday morning became another crime scene, another life ended, and another young man left battling for survival.

How many more wake-up calls do we need? How many mothers must collapse in grief? How many fathers must stand over the body of a son whose greatest ambition became surviving another day on the block?

Too many young men have accepted the street corner as their address in life. Morning turns into afternoon. Afternoon becomes night. Days become years. Dreams disappear. Opportunities vanish. Before long, the only thing that changes is whose face appears on the next memorial T-shirt.

The street offers no salary. It offers no pension. It offers no future. It offers only the false comfort of belonging, until violence reminds everyone just how fragile that illusion really is.

Imagine if the hours spent gambling were invested in learning a trade. Imagine if the conversations under the shed became business meetings.

Imagine if the energy spent chasing excitement was redirected toward building a career, raising a family, or creating something that would make your children proud.

Your life has value. You are capable of far more than simply surviving another day on a corner.

The tragic events in Potters should not become just another headline to scroll past. They should be a warning to every young man who believes that wasting away on the block carries no consequences.

Leave the corner before the corner becomes the place where your life ends. Choose work. Choose education. Choose purpose. Choose people who challenge you to become better instead of encouraging you to remain exactly where you are.

If this letter reaches one young man and convinces him to walk away from that street today, then perhaps one family will be spared the unimaginable pain that the Hubbard family is now enduring.

Don’t wait until your name is announced on the evening news. Don’t wait until your mother is identifying your body. Don’t wait until your friends are wearing T-shirts with your picture on them.

If you’re reading this today, God has given you another chance. Use it.

Sincerely,
A Concerned Citizen