So, I was watching the local news a couple of nights ago when I got home from work (as usual)–and on there was a story about a young couple found dead in a house in Jamestown. From the way the story was presented, it sounded like a follow up from a previous story–this time with more details and the names of the people involved. Just hearing that little bit of the story made my stomach turn over. I knew where this was headed.
Predictably, it was a murder/suicide. Predictably, it involved a young couple in a, “domestic relationship”. Predictably, she was shot. And predictably, she was murdered.
She was shot in the back of the head with a rifle. I hope that she didn’t see it coming. I hope that her last seconds on earth weren’t spent in abject terror–knowing that she was going to die at the hands of the person that she should be able to trust most in this world.
I hope that she didn’t die worrying about the three-month-old child that was also in the house. The child that was left alone in that house b/c of the murder/suicide committed by a selfish, subhuman piece of refuse–selfish meat that couldn’t be bothered to make sure that this infant wouldn’t starve or die of thirst. That child who is now left orphaned–who now has to live with the knowledge that his/her father (or male caregiver–whatever the fuck he was to him/her) didn’t care enough to make sure that s/he was safe and looked after. Who didn’t love him/her enough to not murder his/her mother (or female caregiver–whatever the fuck she was to him/her).
What did this child have to hear and/or witness in its earliest days of life? Who will be the “secure base” for this child now that his/her parents are gone? How will someone ever be able to adequately explain to this child what happened? Why s/he doesn’t have parents anymore. How will anyone ever be able to explain to him/her why her mother died at twenty-six years old. To explain that it happened at the hands of her thirty-three year old father?
The whole thing is sad and sickening and infuriating–and far too common. Had the police been to that house before on domestic disturbance calls? How often? Was anyone ever arrested? Charged? Did anyone consider this a possibility–regardless of how remote it could be? Did that day feel different to her? I didn’t know these people or their families. I have no connection to them whatsoever. But yet, I care. Deeply.
I care because that could have been me. I care because it could have been any number of the people that I know and love. Oh, who am I kidding? That should say, “…any number of the WOMEN that I know and love.” Let’s be honest–the vast majority of these scenarios are perpetrated by the male part of the domestic relationship. And yes, I know that this characterization only reflects cis and hetero relationships. I don’t know enough about the dynamics in other relationships and the participants therein to even attempt to comment intelligently on any statistics regarding the incidents of domestic violence in them. (I know, run-on sentence) But, rest assured, I care deeply about them also.
Every once in a while, when I start feeling safe–becoming complacent–something like this happens and the news reports it. It reminds me that safety and security are luxuries. That I am so incredibly lucky. And stories like this just reinforce that belief.
They also remind me that I’m not just being paranoid–that worrying about my past (in healthy amounts) and how it affects the present are worthwhile pursuits. I feel very ridiculous sometimes–altering my routine and my mindset and looking over my shoulder. He’s only been gone for a short time–but I’m optimistic that he is finally leaving me alone. Finally. I feel truly safe for the first time in ages–and that’s mainly b/c of Elroy. It may be an illusion, a mirage–but it’s intoxicating and I think that I’ll park here for a while and enjoy the view.
Thanks for reading, gorgeous friends!!!
ealvfargond 