"The Power of One"

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  • Homicide Grief

    Homicide grief is like no other. It is like a living death to the survivors of the murdered love one. It is the beginning of a life-long sorrow that does not get better with time. The survivor trudges on, one foot in front of the other one as if your feet had hundred-pound weights attached to them, scarred forever by the incomprehensible loss and injustice of the murder. The ‘why’ will never be answered because there is no justification for murder.

    The mental and physiological torture begins with experiences that individuals associate with war; the atrocity of the sudden death; watching him go into medical distress; staring on in disbelief as the ambulance loads his barely deceased body into the ambulance; in the emergency room, seeing him on a gurney attached to a heart machine that is flat-lining; emergency personnel trying to revive an already dead body; all the while saying ‘no-way’ is this happening.

    This mental torture is compounded ten-fold if that loved one is your child.

    Realization, if it comes, comes very slowly. So far, I am 4 years, 4 months into my living hell and I am still suffering uncontrollable periods of grief and disbelief; anxiety attacks. Sometimes I feel like I have ADHD. I have spoken to several parents and siblings who have lost their sons/brothers to a “one-punch homicide” and they have told me 8, 12 years after the death of their loved one, they still cannot comprehend the senseless and violent death.

    Rhetoric surrounding homicide from bureaucratic public officials and the main-stream media with their boiler-plate comments, and the public themselves invokes to the survivor of a murdered child that nobody cares, nobody understands the true loss. Why would you? You have never been through it. And yet, as I write this, there are thousands of people world-wide, going through exactly this – the murder of a child.

    When homicides get attention, it tends to be the sensational ones; mass shootings, celebrity murders; the murders of small children; terrorist attacks; not the regular people who do most of the dying to senseless murders. They are the true ‘throw-way’ people which diminish their standing as innocent victims. The innocent victims are the ones like Brian, killed outside a drinking establishment after an argument ended; the prostitute murdered by a John; the wife murdered by her husband in a ‘domestic’ dispute; the aboriginal girl who is hitch hiking along some dark highway and forever disappears; the two year old child whose stepfather beats her to death because she was screaming; our criminal justice system places the blame equally on them for their deaths as they do the murderer.

    As if they somehow had a hand in their own murder – so to speak.

    We were actually told by a public official that Brian’s murder was not a high profile murder case in the media’s eyes and therefore, it would not get investigation or attention from the prosecutor’s office like a more sensational murder would.

    I am serious.

    Am I angry? Naturally; so too should you be. This could be you some day.

    Henceforth, the lenient jail sentences on those criminals (if they get caught). Our criminal Justice system is like the schoolyard bully. It overcompensates to criminals when it comes to small crimes such as theft, etc. by giving them large jail sentences that does not fit the crime; however, it acts like a coward when it comes to murder – often giving murderers light jail sentences. Two years less a day for example for the murder of Chris Ball in 2012.

    We are lacking an effective, criminal justice system run by bureaucrats who lack in common sense. Public indifference to this makes it worse.

    It is also this apathy, which breeds stress in the survivors of murdered children.

    About 6 months after Brian was murdered, I died one night. I went to bed in a terrible state. Sometime during the night, I seemed to go down a long dark tunnel that had a bright, white light at the end of it. As I got closer to the white light, I saw Brian to my right. He was yelling at me to “Go back Mom. Don’t come here”. I remember very vividly saying to him “if this is where you are, I want to be there also.” He yelled back to me “no, no, Mom, you do not want to be here. Go back. Go back.” After a couple of more exchanges with him, I receded back away from the bright white light.

    I believe that was the night I suffered the heart attack. I never felt the heart attack, but during routine testing last year, the doctor told me that I had very recently suffered a heart attack. They also could find no biological reasons for it.

    There is such a thing as a broken heart.

    Another fall-out of his murder is the recurring dreams (no they are not nightmares – I lived that already). In these dreams, Brian is always older, he is always sick, I try to heal him, I tell him that if he doesn’t do what I tell him he will die; he argues with me that he doesn’t have to listen to me anymore because he is a grown man so he ignores my advice.

    And of course, he always dies.

    My son was murdered. Period. I am tired of the bleeding heart liberals out there who keep blending murder victims and their murderers into one indistinguishable mass. All these throw-way murder victims started life as somebody’s baby.

    Author; Angela Ludwig;

    December 31, 2016.


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