31 years.

He walked out of the Limo silently, as his wife Yoko passed him to the reception area of the Dakota. He sauntered across the street to his apartment building, surprised no fans were anywhere. When he reached the cold concrete of the sidewalk, he felt two eyes boring into him, as if they could see his soul. He turned to see a young man, maybe twenty-five, gazing at him. He slowly turned his head back, a little uncomfortable, and looked at his watch. 10:51. He just wanted to get home to his son Sean, and rest.

"Mr. Lennon!" He spun to the direction of the voice but saw no one, and he suddenly felt a sharp sting on his back.The place where the pain started began to feel warm and wet against his shirt. His hand started to reach to that sharp pain, but never attained it's destination, for another sharp sting was sent through his body from his back.It was as if his legs no longer wanted to carry him,because he sank as three more pricks echoed in his body. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a thick red liquid spill onto the pavement as his body lowered onto the ground. The last thing he saw was white.