Closure

Well, they sen­tenced the bas­tard who killed my friend yes­ter­day.  Actu­ally, “bas­tard” is too good a word, as it implies “human” and Der­ick Hol­l­i­day is any­thing but human.  Life in prison with­out parole.  He deserved worse, much worse (the death of a thou­sand cuts comes to mind) … but, I guess, it’s the best that can be hoped for.

As for that moron’s fam­ily, spare me your remorse.  No “good boy” takes a .44 Mag­num and chases another human being down a crowded street shoot­ing at them over an alter­ca­tion in a movie the­ater.  If you’re look­ing at some­one to blame … look in a bloody mirror.

Actu­ally, one thing could make things a (very) lit­tle bet­ter:  If there was a ser­vice avail­able that one could sub­scribe to that would send a sin­gle (postal) let­ter at a spe­cific time once a year for the rest of Holliday’s life, I’d pay to send the same let­ter to him each year on the anniver­sary of his con­vic­tion.  Why that date?  Because that’s the day that, after being found guilty of mur­der in the first degree, he had the brain­less audac­ity to look at the par­ents of the man he killed (because he got in the way of him try­ing to kill some­one else) and say, “I hope you’re happy”.  Idiot … but I digress.  I’d pay to send the same let­ter to him each year:

Der­ick,

In answer to your ques­tion … no, I’m not happy.  But I’m sat­is­fied that you will never be free to live your life the way you want to.