Not This Time

As I watched the green light above the camera turn to red my stomach tried to rebel one more time. I didn’t want to do this. Our grief should have been a private thing, shared only with our family and the small community of our friends. Jan’s death had been hard enough without the media avalanche we were being buried under. I was about to interviewed once again when all I wanted to do was cuddle with Bea and our remaining children as we tried to comfort each other. Someone had to speak out though and I am much more accustomed to public speaking than Bea is. Not that I was prepared for what I was faced with. I’ve somehow become as much a story as Jan’s murder.

We have been adamant in our statement that we don’t want the man executed. It’s not that there is any doubt of his guilt. He boasted about killing the “abomination” on his website and posted pictures of her body. That video almost killed Bea. She ended up in the hospital less than half way through after we made the sheriff show it to us. I forced myself to go back and watch the rest when she was stable and sleeping in the ICU. I really hope he is right about the existence of hell; he deserves to be punished eternally for what he did to my daughter.

We have fought hard to separate our principled objection to the death penalty from the horror of what he did. Many people have had trouble understanding that. Since last Friday I’ve been called a hypocrite after I attacked that reporter, Crandall. I am philosophically a pacifist but still have a temper. When Crandall suggested that my son Joe bought on his own fate by becoming Jan, I attacked him and had to be hauled off by the other members of the press. I would normally have more self control but I’d been berating myself for days for failing to protect her. It was one more attack and I wasn’t going to let her be hurt again.

So against legal advice, the same advice I’d give to someone else in this situation, I’m going to try one more time. I’m going try to explain that Jan really was a female. I’m going to try to explain that only a total ban on execution protects the falsely convicted and those who may be able to rehabilitate themselves. That becoming murderers ourselves does nothing positive. That it does nothing to discourage others from killing. I’m going to try to explain that I’m human and grieving. That I shouldn’t have become violent.

I’m going to try not to cry this time.



If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos!
Click the Thumbs Up! button below to leave the author a kudos:
up
118 users have voted.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos! Click the "Thumbs Up!" button above to leave a Kudos

And please, remember to comment, too! Thanks. 
This story is 469 words long.