JAHLIL Clements is a name I want to remember.
Those of us in the news business are drawn into the painful details of many tragedies. To continue doing our jobs, we can't let them all affect us deeply.
But sometimes a story does, even for reporters and editors who think they have seen it all.
I find myself not wanting to forget about this boy, who must have experienced fear and sadness that no child should. As we all know, too many of them do.
Jahlil's fear is gone now, wiped away by his death.
However, he died because he chose not to cower. He took action in the face of danger and thus became a powerful figure.
He was the 11-year-old who was riding along Interstate 77 through downtown Charleston last Saturday night with his mother, her boyfriend and some other children.
The boyfriend began to beat the mother, who was driving. She eventually stopped the car. Police have said he dragged her out and continued beating her.
Jahlil jumped out of the car and tried to flag down help as vehicles whizzed by. He was struck and fatally injured.
Two days before this happened, I had read a book that began with the story of another 11-year-old boy in sad circumstances.
"An Invisible Thread" by Laura Schroff is the true account of a Manhattan advertising executive's relationship with a street child who approached her to beg for change.
She kept moving, as city residents usually do, but several paces later stopped in her tracks. She walked back toward the thin, grimy boy and invited him to join her for lunch at a nearby McDonald's.
The story of the relationship that develops between these two unfolds in a compelling book that is difficult to put down.
Maurice, the boy befriended by Schroff, has an almost indescribably sad home life. All the adults in his life are drug dealers or addicts.
No one keeps track of where he goes or whether he eats. No one sees that he bathes, washes his clothes, or buys him new ones.