When a complete stranger fires a 9-millimeter semi-automatic handgun at your home and kills your husband, you tend to place blame. Five years ago, this happened to me. One second I was a new mom with a 3-day-old baby, the next I was a widow. About 20 minutes after the incident, I sat in a chair on my back porch (slightly drugged up) and stared blankly at the home where my husband’s killer was illegally squatting. I felt numb, angry, and in shock. As the police took him away, I held onto my baby while constantly shaking my head in disbelief. Had he done it on purpose or by accident?