An Open Letter to my Friend, the Murderer
Dear D.,
Here's the thing about murder: There are so many victims. Maybe the one who dies has it easy. Did you ever think about that?
Do you have any idea what you've done to me? Do you have the slightest idea?
Every day I think about your crime.
Every single day I wonder what more I could have done.
You bastard.
Why do I have any compassion left for you?
Why couldn't you have been honest with me? During your trial I heard the full extent of the truth. I learned about your elaborate suicide plan. You thought of everything! You knew just how to do it. And you were so thoughtful, too! You made a special sign for your door, "KCFD, do not enter, let MAST and PD handle." You didn't want your firefighter friends to find your headless body.
What about me, you son of a bitch? What about me?
Did you ever once consider how I'd feel? When I found out about your lies? After I asked you over and over and over again, "are you going to hurt yourself?" After I told you, "You need help."
Did you think about how I'd feel after you called me, and told me you'd killed your ex-wife and that you had to die? Did you think about how I'd feel after both of you were dead and I missed my opportunity to prevent it all from happening? Did you consider my feelings when you asked me to tell your children that you're sorry? Did you worry about me, down there at the police station all night long? Being questioned about your crime?
And still. After all this, I have compassion in my heart for you.
Here's the thing about murder: There are so many victims. Maybe the one who dies has it easy. Did you ever think about that?
Do you have any idea what you've done to me? Do you have the slightest idea?
Every day I think about your crime.
Every single day I wonder what more I could have done.
You bastard.
Why do I have any compassion left for you?
Why couldn't you have been honest with me? During your trial I heard the full extent of the truth. I learned about your elaborate suicide plan. You thought of everything! You knew just how to do it. And you were so thoughtful, too! You made a special sign for your door, "KCFD, do not enter, let MAST and PD handle." You didn't want your firefighter friends to find your headless body.
What about me, you son of a bitch? What about me?
Did you ever once consider how I'd feel? When I found out about your lies? After I asked you over and over and over again, "are you going to hurt yourself?" After I told you, "You need help."
Did you think about how I'd feel after you called me, and told me you'd killed your ex-wife and that you had to die? Did you think about how I'd feel after both of you were dead and I missed my opportunity to prevent it all from happening? Did you consider my feelings when you asked me to tell your children that you're sorry? Did you worry about me, down there at the police station all night long? Being questioned about your crime?
And still. After all this, I have compassion in my heart for you.
posted by Juanita at
11:43 AM
4 Comments:
Praying for peace.
I am glad that you are finally angry and directing it at the right person. It will alow you some distance and objectivity. Sometimes, anger is good.
Well, at the time he didn't care. I wonder if he cares now? Sometimes, people become so self-absorbed and selfish that they can't see beyond their own narcissic needs. I'm just glad you're through all of this now.
Jen, a big hug. I can't imagine. I found going through a divorce horrible beyond imagining. A murder trial as a witness. I'm glad it's over. Be angry as long as you need to be angry. And take good care.
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