By Parker Robertson
All my life I could never understand how one person could take another person’s life. The word and act of murder repulsed me. What went through the murderer’s mind? What had led him to this point? Why had it reached this stage? So many questions raced through my mind but no matter how I tried to see the act of murder as making sense, I just couldn’t. It was wrong. No reason could justify it. Yet as I know it was wrong, I was just a short time away from committing the act myself. The humiliation of my family, a life in prison or a death sentence if caught, and that possibility was just about definite. I cared about none of this. A killing was necessary. A person had to die. I was to be the executioner. There was no other possible solution. I had considered all other alternatives and it had all come down to one murder. The thought that repulsed me was soon to become a reality. How could it have gone this far? Couldn’t I have stopped it before it came to this? I was never a violent man. Rationalize, think of all the harm it would cost, the taking of a man’s life. That’s not you. Forget this foolishness and get on with your life. I thought of these things over and over again. It didn’t work. This murder had to happen. It had snowballed to this point and was now totally out of control. Someone had to die. The death warrant had been signed and I was very soon to administer the penalty.
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