somebody’s baby.

The more I read about the Eve Carson murder, the more disgusted and depressed I get.

We hear about murders like this just about every day, but unless we’re directly involved in the lives of the victims, we don’t really pause and think about the magnitude of such a crime.

That girl was somebody’s baby.

Somebody looked at her sonogram pictures and looked forward to holding her for the first time.

Somebody welcomed her into the world, swaddled her, nursed her, and stayed awake at night for weeks and months tending to her, and worrying about her.

Somebody changed a few thousand diapers for her, read her a few thousand goodnight stories, gave her a few thousand hugs and kisses, and got a few thousand in return from her.

Somebody taught her to walk, to speak, to read, to ride a bike. Somebody listened to her first word, somebody made a big affair out of it when she used the potty for the first time, and somebody made sure she was dressed and fed and loved at all times.

Somebody listened to her hopes and dreams. Somebody made up stories and played tea party with her.

Somebody was proud of her when she brought home good grades. Somebody consoled her when she had her heart broken for the first time.

Somebody kissed her for the first time, and somebody sent her her first Valentine’s Day card.

Somebody was excited with her when she worked hard enough to get a scholarship for college, and somebody was happy for her when she was accepted into the school of her choice.

Somebody sent her off into the world with pride, love, and trepidation.

Then, one night last week, she pulled up at an intersection in the middle of the night, and somebody else decided that they wanted what she had.

Somebody else took her lives from her–both the life she had, and the life she was going to have, everything that she was, and everything that she could have been. Somebody snuffed her out without thought, erased her history, her desires, her hopes, her dreams–because they wanted the car she drove, and the money she carried with her.

They also took the lives of her family, in a way. That family will never be the same again–every time Eve’s birthday comes around, every Christmas, every family gathering where stories and presents are exchanged and new children and grandchildren welcomed, the wound will be opened once more, and it will never truly heal. Taking one’s child, sibling, and grandchild away is like ripping a piece out of someone’s heart and discarding it forever, and none who have buried a daughter or a sister or a grandchild can ever be made entirely whole again. They killed Eve, but they also killed a piece of every member of her family, and caused grief that will endure for decades.

How do you punish such an act? How can there be any sort of satisfactory retribution for it? How can there be rehabilitation for the person who thinks they have the right to toss a life away like an old candy wrapper?

Maybe some crimes can’t be punished appropriately. Maybe there are some deeds so reprehensible that it’s no longer about punishment, revenge, or redemption. Maybe some actions are so far beyond such concepts that the only thing left to do is to remove the offender from existence as swiftly and unceremoniously as possible, like putting down a dangerous animal, so they’ll at least never have the opportunity to take another life.

I don’t know what goes on in the mind of someone who decides that a few hundred dollars and a car are a good enough reason to put a gun to the head of someone else and pull the trigger. I don’t know what we can do to keep such things from happening. I don’t know if there’s anything we can do to that end–humans have preyed on each other for as long as we have existed as a species.

I do know one thing: a sidearm in a holster, or pocket, or purse more than any other thing gives credibility to the statement, “I am not food, and if you try to harm me or mine, you will receive harm in return.”

And I also know that in a civilized society, the life of Eve Carson’s murderer wouldn’t be worth a bucket of warm piss anymore.

 

ADDENDUM:

I don’t want to give the impression that I want to deny due process to murderers.  They have the right to a trial, of course, and I agree with the folks who commented and said that we need to remove folks like Eve’s killers from society with much the same dispassionate attitude that a surgeon has when he removes a tumor from a patient.

What I would prefer to see, I guess, is a society where murders are a rare event because the intended victims would have the means and the attitude necessary to return the aggression in kind, and put a bullet into their would-be killer.  I’d like to see a society where we don’t teach people the lie that “you don’t need to have the knowledge or tools for self-defense, because the police will protect you”, and where our children don’t buy into those lies. 

I’d like to see a society where due process is granted to those accused of a crime, but where the only due process given to those who are caught in the commission of robbery, rape, assault, or murder is a bullet to center mass, administered by their intended victim or a witness to the crime.

Explore posts in the same categories: Uncategorized