Today's Apocalypse Sign : One Of My Yesterdays

Yoda said, "Do, or do not...there is no try." Sage advice from a green pointy-eared hobbit-like creature.

So I will Do...something I have not done before, a repost. The only tie is has with the letter Y is the title of the post begins with Y...the title - You Never Really Know Someone. Original post date was July 6th, 2010. It is longer than I would like for the Challenge post, but events have forced this to the forefront of my thinking again... the trial is about to begin and one of my co-workers has been subpoenaed for that trial.

There were only 5 comments on the first go round so this will be new to many.

One of my Yesterdays...

I have been thinking long and hard about this for the past couple of weeks. Does anyone really know their fellow man? A friend. A spouse. A family member. A colleague. Think of the times you have said, "I can't believe so-and-so did or didn't do this or that." When is the last time you said it?

Most of the time this is usually about something trivial...I can't believe he could afford that car." or "I can't believe she moved clear across the country". And when I say trivial I don't mean unimportant, I mean these are not shocking-to-the-core type events. Nothing like what I experienced 12 days days ago when I found out a work-friend had strangled his wife to death in their house.

See? You don't know me or him and it is shocking to read those words in print isn't it? How do you react when you get news that is like a spike to the base of the brain?

I am not even sure I heard what I was hearing at that time I was being told. Stunned disbelief was a huge understatement. I could not even process it. Here was someone I had worked with for over 10 years, had been to his house, had met his wife and kids, ate dinner there...he had smoked brisket for me a couple times and always smoked turkey and ham for our company Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners. He was an all-around good guy.

He was our company landscape maintenance technician. Always in good humor, joking with the girls in the office whenever he came in to turn in his expenses or get a check to buy supplies. This is how I saw him when he was in the office less than 24 hours before he murdered his wife. How the hell do you process that? It reminds me of the IQ test question, "look at these four things and decide which one doesn't fit". None of this fit with the man I "knew".

They say after strangling her in their home (fortunately their kids had gone to San Antonio to spend the summer with their grandparents) he loaded her body into the front seat of their SUV and drove about a mile to the Lutheran church and left it there with her inside. Presumably he walked home. She was found the next morning ironically by the church landscaper and the Reverend. He was arrested shortly thereafter.

My mind was on hyper-drive for some days after this. For a young man (mid-thirties) who spent most of his day outdoors in the sun and fresh air, he may never get to enjoy that again. He will never drive a car, swim in a pool, play with his kids in the park, take a vacation, earn a living, play in the snow, smell the scents of a Mexican restaurant when the wind blows just right. He will never have a Merry Christmas or a Happy New Year. His kids will never know their father tucking them in at night or buying them an ice cream cone on a sweltering summer day. In one fell swoop these children went from being happy go-lucky kids to no longer having parents. His wife will know even less.

Everything I looked at daily or remembered about this man I "knew" was quickly distilled into the rapidly filling column of my mental ledger entitled Things He Will Never Get To Do Again. Odd thoughts throughout the day, especially when I'd walk outside and smell the air or feel the sun.

This was one first of a lifetime I could have easily done without.

Speculation has been rampant as to why this happened, to how and why the switch flipped to Homicide in his brain. Not being a particularly religious man, his wife was becoming more interested in the church. Some say the Lutheran church where she was found was the church she wanted to join and he was very opposed to it. Others say there had been trouble at home and that night she told him she was leaving and he just snapped. His demeanor at work never indicated any change in his home life. Rumors abound that he was having an affair. All sorts of things swirling about this man I "knew".

The photo that was posted on the Internet news site of a man I "knew" was in an orange jumpsuit and a stare I cannot quite describe. It was not the look of someone full of regret, remorse, fear, or anger, but more like...like nothing. This may be what is described as the "1000-yard stare" I don't know. I cannot fathom the rage that it would take to put your hands around the neck of someone you loved and raised children with and violently squeeze the last breath out of her body. Knowing these people makes it intensely disconcerting. For if I "knew" him what do I truly know about many of the others around me?



Some days later my thoughts turned to prison life. How would he survive prison? What if this is a life sentence? Prison gangs. Shanks. The yard. The Huntsville, Texas federal prison is just like you would imagine it to be. How do you assimilate the fact that you are going there possibly for the rest of your life and you will be fresh meat walking in? Two weeks ago cutting grass and enjoying life, soon to be devolved as a human being. Oddly I feel very bad for him and know I will miss seeing him a couple times a week...at least for a while. This all will fade, as mercifully our brain does not keep these intense feelings on the front burner for long.

This is why I had to write this tonight. If I hadn't I'm afraid that I might never have done it and the whole thing would have faded to black as I know it will eventually.

And one future day, for no particular reason, I will ask someone..."Can you believe he actually did that?" And it will not then be shocking-to-the-core anymore. It will have faded to a matter-of-fact statement.

The fate of this man I "knew".