Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Sometimes, There's Nothing Funny to Talk About

When I was a Public Defender, people often asked me, "How do you sleep at night, representing those criminals?" I usually responded, "Like a baby, thanks."

Now that I'm on the other side, I still get those questions occasionally, "Don't the horrible things you see keep you up at night?" Usually, the answer is no, except that sometimes I stay up late telling funny stories.

Then there are the not-so-funny stories. Some are pretty damn bad.

Like the three year old victim I heard about this week, whose horrific injuries just won't leave my mind; the victim I would seriously consider bringing into my home to live, just so I could be certain he wasn't hurt again.

Like Marco David Chapman, who committed a terrible, heinous crime, but was a victim himself. I can't bear to think of forgiving him, but I can't bear to think of the state allowing his suicide-by-execution. It is for people like him that I am so grateful I believe in God, for surely only the God I believe in could offer him forgiveness and healing.

I don't think my job gives me any more access to horrible stories than the average person has; maybe it makes me notice them more. And on those days, the days that the stories hit me the hardest, I fervently wish that I had decided to be a librarian.

I don't have kids. If you do, please give them a hug. It could change their lives.


Jonathan's Mommy said...

I heard about that three year old too. It's absolutely disgusting, particularly since I HAVE a three year old! A three year old who, as I am typing this, is happily watching Elmo and munching on Corn Pops. How could anyone do those things to a child is beyond me.

Bryan said...

Stories? I know em'. As for the Corn pops, someone is hiding cereal from Daddy again . . . .

DSS said...

Do you feel it??? I'm hugging you! I love you!!!!!!!!!!

Kara Lewis said...

Awww, thanks Mom!