When a crime is committed against a child, we are all victimized. Why did a guy walk into an elementary school at Sandy Hook and shoot a bunch of little kids? Was he angry at those little kids? Highly unlikely. He was angry at society, and killing the most innocent among us is the ultimate expression of that anger.
When I was a little kid, a playmate of mine was raped and murdered; her naked body dumped in a ditch on the side of the road. I still remember Shirley, and I still remember my mother telling me that she had been murdered. It doesn’t matter that I was three years old at the time; nor does it matter that it was 44 years ago. When this kind of thing happens to one of your friends, you never forget. I took comfort in believing that the guy who did this was dead, until a few weeks ago, when I decided to look the case up on the internet, only to learn that the case had never been closed, there had been no suspects, or even a person of interest. At least that was the official word of the police department. But just the possibility that the guy who had done this could still be out there walking the street opened up an old wound, and it may as well have been yesterday as 44 years ago. I remember things that might have been relevant to the case, that I never thought anything of, because I thought the case had been solved. I took that information to the police, and they have since reopened the file on Shirley’s murder, although there is little chance that they will ever get a conviction now.
Rape isn’t about sex; it’s about anger, and anyone who rapes a child is angry and evil. When they found Shirley, her face was all bruised. What kind of sick bastard does this to a child? In a way I kind of envy Shirley. Shirley lived those carefree, innocent years, and never had to grow up and experience the ugliness of this world (except for that one night in the spring of 1972, when it all ended). For me and her other playmates, a piece of our own childhood was taken from us also that day. We grew up with the knowledge that the world was not the place of magic it once was. But inevitably, all children everywhere find this out, one way or another. And this is the victory of the bastards who do these things. Little by little, our childhood is robbed from each and everyone of us.
But I refuse to give them this victory. I could be angry, and stay angry for the rest of my life. But if I do this, has Shirley’s murderer not only killed Shirley, but me as well? If I take my anger out on others, am I not, little by little, robbing that childhood innocence we all once shared from others? Instead, I take that anger and convert into something positive.
I am going to do my part to help build a world where children do not have their innocence stolen from them, when they are barely old enough to know how to walk. They say that God is love, but I don’t understand how children are being victimized practically underneath his altars, and they can still say that God is love. Well, if there is no god, or if he doesn’t care, that is not going to change my mind. Even if it was all a lie, I grew up believing in the power of love, and even if there is no god looking out for the little children, then so be it, but if I suspect that a child is being abused, I will not look the other way.
I can’t say that I truly remember what Shirley looked like, but at least in my mind, I picture her as looking something like Scout, from the movie To Kill a Mockingbird:
youtube.com/watch?v=oaVuVu5KXuE