She Must Die

Evening

Diego

(Thursday, July 16, 2015; 6:10 PM)

Omar came to the afternoon class running. "Sorry guys, I'm late." He put his Bible and notebook on the table and dropped his pumped up body on the chair. But the fading sunrays, coming through the smaller upper windows, dealt harshly with his eyes - he kept blocking them with his right hand. So he shifted his chair a bit.

"Perfect. Perfect. You know guys, I have to see all of you with no problems," Omar said, leaning back on the chair, both hands on his brown hair.

His eyes lit up when he saw me at the back of his class. He dropped his hands on the table and leaned forward. "Oh my God! Oh my God! You made it, Diego?" The class of about thirty Sing Sing inmates, in black and white stripped uniforms peeked towards the back. I wished to vanish instantly. "That brother at the back has been promising to come for over a year. Let's put our hands together for him, gentlemen and gentlemen. Diego Evans."

They clapped their hands, staring at me. I felt shy and provoked, but I managed to nod with pride and confidence. I wished Omar would not ask me to say something or introduce myself before he started teaching. Life, people reduced me to a shadow and an animal that enjoys isolation. I preferred keeping it that way. No unnecessary attention, please.

Omar said, "As I had promised, guys, this week we shall talk about forgiveness. It's a long subject – we will never finish it, but we will cover the most important stuff. You all know - Sing Sing is my home for life. I will never be released. But, but the good news is this: I am not bitter about it. In fact, I love this place now. I love my cell. I love the officers that look after us. I ..." Almost everybody laughed – a laughter of disbelief. "Come down, men, I will explain, I will explain - the why, the how – I will explain. It's all in the forgiveness teaching..."

Omar started his lesson and talked about forgive this one, forgive that one, forgive that cat. That dog. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. He also connected that nonsense with some guy called Jesus. I didn't buy it. Sorry. Thank you. I regretted why I even came. I desperately longed for the class to end. Considering what I had been through in life, it was useless, ridiculous and stupid to listen to a guy like Omar. He was a good guy, yes. But very naive. He had no idea what some of us had been through in life. I even doubted if he was truly a serial killer.

Whatever he was saying was not different from some echo. I wasn't interested. I shook my head when he said Jesus gives people power to forgive all those that have wronged them. I couldn't believe that guy. He was mocking me, really. I felt glimpses of hatred brewing in my heart. As a prison pastor I respected him as everybody else, but the rubbish he was saying with great enthusiasm and courage made me start hating him.

I never understood how he honestly believed I had to forgive Katie. That girl buried me alive. She turned my kids in to orphans. She rewarded my kindness with evil. She deserved nothing but death. She was number one even on my list. It was all set – she had to be dragged at two hundred miles per hour on the tar. Then her three friends would be next. Those boys were even beating her when I busted them raping her in that abandoned warehouse. Really, what kind of a moron could forgive someone who sent him to prison for thirty nine years for nothing.

Stupid me. I regretted daily why I helped her – why I stopped my car and ran to help the crying and bleeding teenager tied on that old metal workshop table. I wished I let her bleed to death. But the parent side of me wouldn't let me. As I looked at the three boys raping her on the table, taking turns, rage erupted. I felt like they were doing it to my own twelve year old Maya. I couldn't even realize when I stopped the car and ran to them.