On Trial

I can tell you what I see. I see Dorian Gray. You display the effigy of a pristine man that encapsulates life’s beauties. The hard work he did for his community. The joy and love and devotion he brought to his friends and family. The consummate ideal of a man with drives and passions that would have brought incalculable advancements to the world, erasing pain and suffering for all. And because of these depictions of that man, I see perfidy in this vary institution you claim as sacred. Yes, this man you defend is Dorian Gray. And locked in his attic is the very image of corruption that you desperately tried to hide from the jury, from the world. I feel jaded and resentful. I feel no pity for him, for you, for this world. You want me to apologize for my actions? For murdering a man in defense of my now deceased wife? If I feel sorry at all, I’m sorry that he became the person he was. I recognize that monsters do not manifest in the world out of nowhere, but instead are manufactured by a decaying society. I recognize that he was born in a world with an abundance of suffering and a famine of love and care. I recognize that he adopted behaviors throughout his life that he believed to be necessary for his own personal survival. At least, until they weren’t. But will I apologize for killing that man? No. I won’t. I don’t consider myself to be a particularly virtuous man. I’m sure I’ve done more things that were mistakes than I have done that were right. I know that when judgement comes for me, God and I are going to have a long talk. But I will not sit here and apologize for the one thing I’ve ever done in my life that I know, beyond any semblance of any doubt, was virtuous. Abigail was a saint. She blossomed flowers from the cracks in the pavement she walked on. She couldn’t touch a piece of trash without imbuing it with the love of God himself. She treated all people as redeemable and passed judgement on no man born on this earth. The goodness she brought to this world spreads to this day as a wave of purity that sheds light on the darkest corners of the human condition. And had she not been murdered, even more good would have been done. The deeds she could have continued to do; the charity, hope, and goodwill she could have continued to bring to our world throughout her life would have saved so many people from suffering and damnation. And that was stolen from us. That was stolen by the vary man you sit here trying to protect. Meanwhile, the trail of pain and destruction in his wake is inconceivable. The men, women, and children whose lives were changed forever because they had the misfortune of encountering him can be found around every corner. And now they must battle demons every day. Pray they do not succumb to evil and begin to deliver it here themselves. The victims he would have created in the future had his life not been ended are legion. Like Dorian Gray, that man was corrupt beyond the capacity of any normal man to resolve. Like Dorian Gray, his only chance at redemption would be face to face with God himself. And so, I delivered him. In defense of himself. In defense of my beloved Abigail whose still warm but lifeless body he stood atop. In defense of all the future sufferers he would have created. Now you sit upon your high and mighty throne of righteousness and demand that I apologize. Before you. Before the jury. Before God himself. You demand that I tell a lie and pretend that I think what I did was wrong and evil. I cannot do that. I will not do that. I will not betray the one part of me that is absolutely good. With my last words I will offer you a warning. Be careful what people, ideas, and behaviors you try to protect. When you welcome hell with open arms to your doorstep, it will come. And when it does, you will know the pain that I now feel with the entirety of your soul. And the inescapable reality of your own responsibility for the suffering you experience will crush you. May God have mercy on you.