In 2007, I wrote a song called "My Chechen Wolves." Since the Boston Marathon bombings, I have been asked repeatedly whether or not I think the Tsarnaev brothers, the alleged perpetrators of this horrible act, knew my song.
Getting back to this "Tough Week," now nearly 14 days ago, as the news raged on, I found myself turning to social media sites like Twitter and Reddit for the latest updates about the situation in Boston.
I jumped on top of my wife to cover her. I remember yelling directions at Lauren. We were able to scramble into a safe position. All the while my brother was still on the phone screaming at me to tell him what happened. All I could muster to him was "Get out of the city!"
Did law enforcement believe that a wounded 19-year-old was sufficiently dangerous and that a reasonable threat existed to demand entry in what can only be considered a gross violation of the Fourth Amendment?
The deadly bombings at the Boston Marathon underscore that terrorism transcends boundaries. While sovereign countries have the right to employ counterterrorism methods, they must not trample the inherent basic rights of an open and fair press.
A day of celebration for so many became a day now forged in my memory with the heartbreaking loss of the lives of three innocent bystanders and a transit police officer, and the more than 200 people injured.
What I remember most vividly in the ten days since the Boston Marathon bombings is the immediate unified response from the community of Boston and its surrounding cities. As Boston grieved its tragedies, it was also determined to work together to protect itself from any future harm.
Too many media outlets, elected officials and community leaders have prematurely labeled the Boston Marathon bombing an act of terrorism. Not all murders are terrorism -- it implies a political or ideological intention, and the "causing of terror" is not enough to merit that label.