High School Sad Irony

   As a high school student, I had little hope that I could go to college, though I desperately wanted to. My father was retired by then. We had no money, and, as far as we knew anyway, student loans were well in the future. There were very few scholarships, except maybe for super star sports. So things looked bleak. As it turned out, Dorothy and I were saved by winning the New York State Regents Scholarships. It was a piddling amount even in those days, but the State College then had no tuition, so the awards covered most of the registration fees and cost of books. Of course we had to commute, a nightmare lasting 4 long years. But I digress from my point.
   That being, when I was a senior, only one teacher, Mr. A., stepped forward to try to figure out a way for  me to go to college. He said he thought I belonged there. He said he himself had attended night school, at Siena College, and thought it might be an option for me. (Though all I could think of was how the heck could I ever get there.)  He offered to look into it for me, and even met with me after school to discuss the possibilities. His fiancee, a fellow teacher,  waited in the car; nothing untoward was going on.
   Those two teachers married and moved to New York City. They had one son. The couple attended our 20th Class Reunion. Mr. A. said he no longer taught English but was a guidance counselor in a Long Island school. His son, then about 14, attended private school.He seemed proud of him.
   The son is now imprisoned, having been found guilty as a serial killer, and  is serving a 61-year to life sentence. He is identified on Murderpedia as The Angel of Death.
    Mr. A. has died, but his wife survives, and remains  a close friend to a member of my graduation class.