"An eye for an eye..."
I hate the phrase.
For almost 30 years I have yet to see the blind lady of justice balance
the scale. When Roger Dale Stafford murdered those people in Oklahoma
City and killed the father of my 2nd Grade Teachers Assistant, I never
thought I would be an adult with a family before he was finally executed.
He locked people up in freezers in a steakhouse and executed without pattern
or remorse and sat in prison until he had more that doubled in weight as
he shined with an evil sneer and stated annually that "They'll never kill
me."
But Roger Dale Stafford
was executed. I don't know what lies in wait for me when I face my
maker but I smiled when I heard the news and proudly announced to those
around me that they finally killed the fat pig. Perhaps my faith
demands compassion and I am sorry if he did not give his soul to his maker
before he died, but to this day I only regret that he was asleep
when he died and he only could die once. His victims did not have
the pleasure of a drug induced sleep and by his dying once he only paid
for one of the many lives he took.
And recently in the paper
I read that "Bloody Mary" another murderer from Oklahoma was executed.
She conspired with her boyfriend and murdered her husband for insurance.
As I recall the account he also was not gifted with the pleasantly blissful
death that she received.
And now comes the time for
Timothy McVey to pay for the lives of 168 men, women, and children with
his one worthless pathetic excuse for existence that he calls a life.
I have heard concerns that
he may become a martyr. Get it right! He's being judged for
murder. The history books will label him a coward and a murderer.
Prayer vigils are springing
up like failing sitcoms and protests are lodged against the inhumanity
of stepping into God shoes to decide when some one should die. My
only comment to those protesters is, "Where were your protests when he
went on this murder tour?" Timothy McVey killed without remorse.
He does not deserve remorse now.
I have selected a bottle
of wine which sits high in my kitchen. When the announcement is made
that McVey is dead I will take it down from the shelf and pour a glass.
I will raise it in the air and claim the life of Timothy McVey in the name
of my neighbor who died in the Murah Building Bombing. Then nodding at
the blind lady lady with the scale I will sigh deeply and say "Thank you".