There’s a really excellent for today’s title but on my way over to the desk to sit at the keyboard and type this, I forgot it. I’m thinking if I sit very still and listen very hard (aside from hearing Robert Plant), the Universe, which knows everything, will share the reason with me, though so far all I’ve been getting is a faint and softly-muted, “Dude, I’ve got nothin’!”
And so it goes, I fear. I’ve been watching a news stream fill with stories of the testimony in the penalty phase of Dzhokhar Tsarnaev and his role in the Boston Marathon Murders (that’s what they are/were and I’m tired of all the talkarounds) and ensuing carnage. It’s reported he is now expressing true remorse for his actions.
Well, as long as he says he’s sorry, I don’t know why we just can’t call it square and move on except, as it turns out, people died and many others were hurt, so moving on doesn’t even get a second much less any discussion. And in the torrent of words that has spilled out about and from this trial since the day it started, that keeps getting forgotten and for the life of me I don’t know how or why.
Speaking of life that was what was taken from Martin Richard who never saw his ninth birthday. So while I fully understand ‘love the sinner but hate the sin’ at least at the theoretic level, being the father of two (now adult) children, no sale here, Dzokhar. Not even close.
I don’t see a confused young man under the influence of a zealot older brother. I see two ingrates, rescued from the horrors of war in their own country and through the kindness of strangers able to start anew in the Land of Opportunity, who repaid freely-given kindness with curses and contempt, attempting to bite the hand that fed them for ideological reasons and instead hurting flesh and blood human beings. I can’t help but believe he really is sorry; sorry he didn’t kill more innocents.
Close his book and turn the page, no matter what happens now.