Wednesday, February 10, 2010

25 to life for Lisa's murderer

My friend, former girlfriend and one of my first loves was murdered by her boyfriend Paul Beam back in August 2008. She was strangled to death. Thing is, she didn't die right away. The mother fucker called his dad after he did it to try and bail him out. Had he called the ambulance right then she might have lived. She may have survived. Some chance is better than none. And he killed her. Like it was nothing. Because she had enough of his abuse and was going to leave him. With her two children in the next room, he strangled her to death. Bags packed, car parked out front of their apartment, he lost it. He couldn't have been a real man and let her leave. He couldn't have been a real man and gotten help. He chose to take a life. Her life. Not his own.
I think about this every day since the day I found out. I go back to the last time I saw her. When I said I would always be there to protect her. I promised her I would be there. I swore. She's gone. And all I have are memories and a broken promise. She deserved better. She always ran with a tough crowd. And I fucking saw it coming after things ended between us. For six years after I last saw her, I knew this would happen. But I didn't do anything. I didn't reach out. I didn't help. I didn't stop it. That's what heroes are supposed to do. They're supposed to help those who cannot help themselves. They're supposed to fight for what is right. By any means necessary. And now this fucking murderer is gonna get out in less than 25 years. They say 25 to life. But they don't mean it. They let murderers, rapists and child abusers out early and they let petty criminals who used or sold drugs sit in a cell and rot. They're going to let Paul Beam walk in 25 years or less. They'll let him out of jail and he'll be free. Forgiven by the people for what he did. Forgiven because in 25 years, the people will have forgotten about Lisa. They won't remember Jeremy, her son or her daughter Kaitlyn. In twenty-five years, he'll be an old man, pushing 63. In twenty-five years I'll only be 56. I'll be in good shape. And I'll be waiting.
I know Lisa wouldn't want him dead. I can feel it in my gut. But there's something inside me that just broke. Something, at some point that didn't believe in killing a killer. That the death penalty didn't prove anything. But that feeling is gone right now. I don't want rationale thinking. I don't want justice from the court's perspective. I don't want that injustice. I want true justice. I want him to suffer. I want him to cry for his worthless life. I want him to beg and plead. I want his life in my hands. And my fingers wrapped around his throat. I want you to know the pain she knew. I want to instill in you the fear she knew. You better hope the state decides better. You better hope they never let you out. Cause if this hatred grows inside me for twenty-five years, you're never going to want to meet me. You don't deserve life. You don't deserve to draw breath. You don't deserve anything good to happen to you. You deserve the worst we can fathom. You have earned my contempt. And you have garnered my hatred.

2 comments:

  1. I said it before and I'll say it again, it's not your fault. Yes it is terrible what happened, and I know his ass will get what is coming to him in jail (karma is one evil bitch); but don't let it eat you alive. She wouldn't want you to stop living your life just to get revenge for her death, so don't beat yourself up over what happened. You don't want it to be forgotten what happened, then don't let it. Use the power of your voice and your comic to make that happen. Let karma take care of the coward.

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