Win a Date with Drew and You Too Can Disappear!

Drew Peterson’s wife Stacey disappeared in late October and hasn’t been seen since. The court of public opinion, right or wrong, has already decided that he killed her. As an ex-police officer, he’s a good candidate for the almost-perfect crime.

Most of America has been appalled by his behavior – hamming it up for the cameras, making jokes and exhibiting all kinds of horribly inappropriate behavior. Even if he were not responsible for her disappearance, she is the mother of his children and she is missing. A little decorum, please. And consideration for your children, for goodness sake!

He hasn’t been in the news recently, and then today he was.

Apparently, he and his attorney suggested to a Chicago Deejay that Drew appear on his program for a “Win a Date With Drew” promotion. Excuse me while I vomit.

Really, could he be any more arrogant?

Thankfully the station put the kebash to the idea.

But you know the worst part? There would have been women who participated. In fact, I’m willing to bet he gets at least some love letters. Heck, lots of men on Death Row are married to women they’ve never touched (lucky for the woman), who have convinced themselves of the man’s innocence in a misguided attempt to find the love they never got from their daddies, or something.

Women can be so stupid. It’s so embarrassing.

One Life Lost, Another Ruined, and I’m Out of Hands

A twelve-year-old kills an 17-month-old toddler, allegedly because she was crying while he was trying to watch cartoons.

Normally I completely avoid stories like this. Ever since becoming a mother I cannot stand to watch or read news stories involving harm to children. It hurts me to my core.

This story, though, is all anyone is talking about here. It’s all over the news, the radio, the supermarket. Moms were talking about it when I dropped my son off at school, the people at the table next to us were discussing it, loudly, as my family and I shared a meal at a local restaurant.

So, I’ve been thinking about it.

On the one hand

On the one hand, should a twelve-year-old boy be charged as an adult for a crime like this? Can his brain have formulated the intent to kill? Did he understand that by beating Shaloh Joseph with a baseball bat she would likely die? Did he think that, like in many of the cartoons he is so fond of, death isn’t permanent? Was he just so indifferent to life that he didn’t care?

Should his life be over at twelve?

My mother’s heart says to try him as a juvenile, and give him a chance to have a life. I think of my own son, but just can’t imagine that he would ever do something like this.

I’ll bet his mother didn’t think so, either.

On the other hand

On the other hand, some crimes are so grave they go beyond what the juvenile courts can really address. We had a case a few years ago when another twelve-year-old, Lionel Tate, killed six-year-old Tiffany Eunick.  That boy was convicted as an adult. After an appeal he was released and given a second chance, which he blew within months. Lionel has been in trouble ever since, and is now back in jail.

On the other hand, Shaloh Joseph’s life is over after seventeen short months. Her little personality didn’t have a chance to fully develop. She’ll never go to school, ride a bicycle, get married. It’s over for her.


Can any punishment really bring justice?

A tragedy waiting to happen

The boy was alone with the girl and another child when this happened. The mother insists he wasn’t babysitting, but either way is a twelve-year-old child responsible enough to care for two younger children?

My sister and I stayed alone when we were eight and ten. We were latchkey kids – a common occurrence when we were growing up. Today parents get arrested for doing what our Mom did.

Still, I wonder how this could happen. I wonder if he’s saveable. And I wonder if he deserves that chance. I think of another case I commented on, involving a seven-year-old who was charged with a felony after a fight, and I wonder where he’s headed.

I wonder, and I worry.

And I’m glad I’m not the one whose hands his fate is in.

How Do They Sleep At Night? Vol 2: MySpace Impersonators

This is part 2 of a series about people who screw people, sometimes for a living.

How Do They Sleep At Night? Part 2-MySpace Impersonators

There are few news stories from the past few years that have disturbed me as much as this one. A young girl committed suicide after parents of an friend of hers opened a MySpace account, created a profile of a young boy, and used it to first gain her trust, then berate and harass her. They instigated the cruel joke, they say, to see if the girl was talking trash about their daughter, from whom the girl had recently become estranged. Perhaps it even started out that way, but it became more about the rush they got wielding the power to hurt a young, vulnerable girl.

Suicide is always tragic, even more so when it involves a child. This girl, already troubled, struggling with her weight and self-esteem, reached her limit. We all know that things would have gotten better, but the poor girl didn’t, couldn’t see past the despair and humiliation she felt lurked outside the door, and on her computer monitor. She wasn’t even safe in her own home.

The people who created the false MySpace account apparently didn’t break any criminal laws – at least not any currently on the books. The laws of humanity, though, were forgotten, or ignored, so that the impersonators could get a cheap thrill.

Are they responsible for her death? It’s true that they didn’t kill her, didn’t put the rope around her neck. I’m even sure that they’re genuinely sorry she’s dead. But they certainly did deliver what turned out to be a fatal blow to her spirit.

Even if she wasn’t troubled, there’s no excuse for such behavior. When children misbehave we say, “They should have know better.” But in this case it was an adult, a parent, saying such horrible things to a child. How could they? How could a parent say that to any child? THAT is the most unfathomable part of it to me, and to the parents I know.

If that weren’t enough, even as these barbs were arriving at their home via the internet connection, the Impersonators were actually imposing on the hospitality of Megan’s family by storing items at their house.

Those are some very, very large testicles.

I feel sorry for the Impersonators’ kids. They certainly aren’t getting many good lessons in character development. Who is teaching them to treat others how you wish to be treated, to share, to be kind? Who is teaching them all of the things I learned from my parents, and that were reinforced in Kindergarten? I hope they’re at least learning lessons on how NOT to be, otherwise I hope my son never runs across them…

How do the Impersonators sleep at night? If they do I hope Megan visits their dreams, and I hope that when they die G-d gives them the same consideration they gave Megan.

Like this post? Read the other post in this series!

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