Becoming of the Fallout
1/1
It was a room of murderers, rapists, and muggers, but today the crime was blamed on a robber. What did they expect from someone with higher morals than those that were in jail with them? Apparently they never could have guessed what a criminal was capable.
I’m not sure if you could call what I did a total tragedy, but there was some beauty to the story behind it. You see, the prison I was going to could be called a prison loosely. The men there never checked anything that was brought in, only what was on the criminals. Even then, the men didn’t check me because I was a “low profile” criminal, not under maximum security like the rest of them.
During lunchtime, I sat at a table of those criminals that were under maximum security. Before I would have thought that prison could make each of them regret what they did. Each of the men discussed their crimes as I sat there in silence with my lunch. The more I listened, the more my mindset changed about prison being able to change a person’s morals.
The murderer went first in the story circle and the look in his eyes appalled me. As he told of the mother and daughter he killed, his eyes glimmered as if he were talking about a newborn puppy playing. He talked of all the blood shed by his hands and how he loved the feel of it. His story went on for a short while, but his smile lasted even longer.
A rapist went next and as with the murder he continued to smile all through his story. He told of how he carefully and patiently waited outside his 19-year old nephew's work. As he laughed about the pain the nephew felt when he penetrated him and how it went on for nearly an hour, the criminals made their gay jokes. Those jokes shocked me the most because they were directed at the victim of this crime, rather than the man who raped another man.
Finally, the mugger told his tale of a bank teller who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The woman would not give up the money, so instead of hurting just her, he shot up the place and killed nearly 30 people. At first, I believed this man was remorseful, but after hearing him say he wished it were more, I knew that he was evil in his heart, too.
Later that night, I sat in my cell, unable to sleep. I decided, since I had some leftover paper and a pencil in my cell, to write a letter to my dearest brother and tell him what low lifes the people here really were. I wrote all night, releasing some of the anger, but for some reason it didn’t leave me feeling better. I told my brother what he should do when he came to visit and I knew he would follow my instruction.
A week after I sent my letter out, my brother came to visit. They took me into a room with the other criminals, including those I had eaten lunch with. A few moments later, my brother came in and gave me a hug. I immediately asked if he had brought the thing and he said yes, laying the pistol flat on the table.
The guard was facing the other way and didn’t have a chance to stop me before I shot murder, rapist, and mugger down. Sooner than I had let my last shot out, my brother ran out the door the guard following and I smiled with satisfaction. Another guard came in and casually put me in cuffs and told me that I would have a hearing in a couple of days.
At my case, the only words that escaped my lips were: “There’s beauty and tragedy in the fallout of man. They tortured lives of the innocent, so I diminished their lives to nothing.” The only reply came from my mind; don’t you see, the tragedy is you have become what you once hated.
I’m not sure if you could call what I did a total tragedy, but there was some beauty to the story behind it. You see, the prison I was going to could be called a prison loosely. The men there never checked anything that was brought in, only what was on the criminals. Even then, the men didn’t check me because I was a “low profile” criminal, not under maximum security like the rest of them.
During lunchtime, I sat at a table of those criminals that were under maximum security. Before I would have thought that prison could make each of them regret what they did. Each of the men discussed their crimes as I sat there in silence with my lunch. The more I listened, the more my mindset changed about prison being able to change a person’s morals.
The murderer went first in the story circle and the look in his eyes appalled me. As he told of the mother and daughter he killed, his eyes glimmered as if he were talking about a newborn puppy playing. He talked of all the blood shed by his hands and how he loved the feel of it. His story went on for a short while, but his smile lasted even longer.
A rapist went next and as with the murder he continued to smile all through his story. He told of how he carefully and patiently waited outside his 19-year old nephew's work. As he laughed about the pain the nephew felt when he penetrated him and how it went on for nearly an hour, the criminals made their gay jokes. Those jokes shocked me the most because they were directed at the victim of this crime, rather than the man who raped another man.
Finally, the mugger told his tale of a bank teller who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The woman would not give up the money, so instead of hurting just her, he shot up the place and killed nearly 30 people. At first, I believed this man was remorseful, but after hearing him say he wished it were more, I knew that he was evil in his heart, too.
Later that night, I sat in my cell, unable to sleep. I decided, since I had some leftover paper and a pencil in my cell, to write a letter to my dearest brother and tell him what low lifes the people here really were. I wrote all night, releasing some of the anger, but for some reason it didn’t leave me feeling better. I told my brother what he should do when he came to visit and I knew he would follow my instruction.
A week after I sent my letter out, my brother came to visit. They took me into a room with the other criminals, including those I had eaten lunch with. A few moments later, my brother came in and gave me a hug. I immediately asked if he had brought the thing and he said yes, laying the pistol flat on the table.
The guard was facing the other way and didn’t have a chance to stop me before I shot murder, rapist, and mugger down. Sooner than I had let my last shot out, my brother ran out the door the guard following and I smiled with satisfaction. Another guard came in and casually put me in cuffs and told me that I would have a hearing in a couple of days.
At my case, the only words that escaped my lips were: “There’s beauty and tragedy in the fallout of man. They tortured lives of the innocent, so I diminished their lives to nothing.” The only reply came from my mind; don’t you see, the tragedy is you have become what you once hated.