Emerson College’s 2006 commencement was a largely hilarious affair.

My plans to reach Elegant Sister status were dashed when the rain forced me to rock Chuck Taylors with my little black dress (kitten heels and lots of rain? Don’t work well together. Who knew?). The faculty stood on stage while the graduates lounged in the audience seating, John Kerry demonstrated something vaguely resembling a personality during his address and I snickered repeatedly as I text-messaged my capped and gowned younger brother.

After he walked, I set out on a walk of my own. I headed up Tremont to buy what T described at the time as best of possible gifts: a falafel from King Falafel that was ready for him, still hot, when he and the rest of the graduation crowd filed out of the theater.

There were a few moments, however, during which I unabashedly cried.

My knowledge of Victoria Snelgrove is roughly that which appeared in the media after the 2004 Fenway police response stories broke. My brother didn’t know her, but she was a classmate and had intended to graduate the same day as he.

Her parents were on hand to speak to the class and accept her honorary degree, and I cried as they thanked the college and wished the rest of the class the best of luck in their future endeavors.

That’s what I thought of today, when I read that the pepper guns used in the police response are going to be destroyed.

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