He had walked about 2 miles from his homeless camp under a Minneapolis bridge to where his mother was living lately, behind the Target store on Lake Street [About a mile, a light year or a breath from me]. The police wouldn't let him get close. Arlene Beaulieu lay there, covered by a blue tarp amid a dirt pile, a shopping cart and strewn garbage.
When he saw his mother taken away in a bag, he couldn't stop the tears that welled in his eyes. He should have been there to protect her, he told a friend later. Now, the closest family he ever knew was gone.
I want to go be with her, Bobby repeated over and over, walking on the streets for weeks afterward, fighting his tears with vodka and whiskey. I want to go be with my mom.
Authorities pulled his body from the river that night. An autopsy showed that he had drowned. He was 27, half his mother's age when she died.