My Brother’s Killer

My older brother’s birthday is right around Thanksgiving. The holiday makes me think of him.  He was killed by a drunk driver late on a Tuesday night in March, on his way to see me.  I got the news and my life was forever changed.  His killer was a small young female, drinking whiskey and driving a giant pickup way too fast.  He was killed on impact, making it difficult to identify his body.  She had a broken femur and a concussion.  She was sentenced to 10 years in prison, released in six; and he is still dead.  I think about him every day, and I’d do anything for one last minute with him.  Yeah, life isn’t fair.  

I grew up on classic macho revenge movies and comic books.  In these stories, the good guy got back at the bad guy for killing his friends or family.  Think The Gladiator, The Patriot, Rocky IV, or Braveheart.  The list goes on and on.  After my brother’s death, I thought a lot about revenge, especially during the trial.  I felt like that was the only way to become whole again.  The event changed the course of my professional career; I went from selling pharmaceuticals to law enforcement.     

During the trial we made statements pleading with the judge to assign the maximum penalty, but she was only sentenced to the mid range.  She had no prior criminal record and was very young at the time.  When it was over I was devastated and felt robbed of justice, but eventually moved on and let go of the anger as best I could.  

Six years later, when working in the metro probation and parole office, I found my brother’s killer in the waiting room.  She didn’t recognize me; I saw her from behind the bullet proof glass.  I immediately checked the database, found the parole officer assigned to her, and started my plan for revenge.  I told the assigned officer she was dangerous, on for murder, and we should keep an eye on her.  Maybe even go to her house and conduct a thorough search.  Any violations should be addressed in the interest of public safety.  I went all out.  I was finally going to get the justice that had been taken from me.   

I wanted to get a team together and raid her house.  Of course, I’d be on point and make her the main target.  I’d put the handcuffs on her and sit with her as other officers searched her home.  The more I thought about it, the deeper I sank.  The thoughts of taking her back to jail consumed me. I found myself praying she would put up a fight, run, or even argue.  I didn’t know it at the time, but my soul was burning, like coal that had been simmering for too long, and about to crumble to ash.  I knew what I was doing was wrong and I didn’t care. 

Over the course of the next few days, all I could think about was my plan.  I was not my normal easy going self.  I failed to find joy in anything, never laughing or even smiling, and friends started to notice.  I dismissed any concerns and told anyone who asked I was fine.  No one knew of my connection with the killer, and I didn’t want to tip anyone off.  

Normally, every morning I’d get up early and go to the gym.  After, I’d take my dogs to the park so they could get some exercise before I would go into work.  It gave me peace, but the thoughts of revenge took that away.  I was so filled with anger, that my patience was shortened to a matchstick.  One of the dogs didn’t cooperate at the park and I yelled at him and scared him.  He looked at me with his deep, chocolatey brown eyes, and froze.  I never yelled at him and he didn’t know what to do.  I kept going.  I yelled more and more at how foolish he was and how disappointed I was.  I was furious at him, and he was so frightened, cowering and shivering, trying to make himself small and disappear away from my rage.  It was at that point I realized how deep I had fallen into the darkness.  I couldn’t believe how much my anger had changed me and I didn’t even know it.  My motivation to get back at this person had made me into a terrible person, truly consuming me.

That day I approached my boss and told her my plan.  I needed to dig my way out of this, and coming clean seemed to be the quickest way to clear my conscience.  I knew it was wrong and I was ready to face the consequences.  Thankfully, the raid was not set, so it was more of a question of my intent and character as an officer.  My boss understood, but had to send it up the chain of command.   I had to endure a “write up” and I was passed on promotions for the next few years. I was grateful that was all.  

My brother’s killer was sent to another office and I was ordered not to look her up on the database.  I never saw her again.  

It still bothers me how much the dark thoughts took over my life.  This tragic event took my brother and almost took me as well.  Revenge isn’t as glamorous as it seems, it just blackens the soul.  I’ll never get my brother back, there is no action that can change that. The only way out is to somehow find peace in the war and move on.  

In the spirit of the holiday, I am deeply thankful for the friends I had, noticing I was off and expressing concern.  I have said it before, but unconditional love has a lot more value as you get older.  I am thankful for my dog Abel who tuned things around for me, and my boss who found understanding in my grief.  There are some terrible people in the world, but there are so many more who are not.  Thoughtful, understanding people who help you at your darkest, and stay by you. I have so many of these people in my life.  They are invaluable.  Truly.