From June 1971 to May 1997 I spent 26 years of my life in a
State Penitentiary for First Degree Murder and Assault.
Where the prison is, is irrelevant. The shit that
happened to me in there, I may talk about one day, but that
day is not today. Stile asked me to write about what its
like to kill a person, and what its like to be free after
doing it.
In January 1970 I was 22
years old, about to graduate college and get on with my life.
Unfortunately, I was nearly 50 years old before I was able to
really do this. My senior year of college I was at a
party with my girlfriend. We had a few drinks and were
on this balcony over a frat house throwing bottles at cars in
the street below. (Okay, maybe she wasn't, but she was
watching me.) It probably wasn't the best idea, but hey,
I was wasted. The sound of breaking glass is that much
better when you are drunk. Anyway, some frat boys saw me
tossing shit off the balcony and got pissed. A few of
them grabbed me and tried to kick me out of their house.
The actually threw me down the stairs and then pulled me out
the door, punching and kicking me as they went. I tried
to fight back, but there was like 5 or 6 of the pricks.
I got in a few punches, but I was on the losing end of that
scuffle. So I am standing outside in the snow waiting
for my girlfriend. After about 20 min, I decided to just
go home, after all she was a big girl, and I was bleeding and
cold. She drove, so I walked bout 2 miles home in the
snow, leaving a trail of blood the whole way. I had this
sweet cut around my eye and my nose felt broken. I got
home and passed out on the floor of the bathroom.
The next morning I got up and
looked for my girlfriend. There was still vomit and
blood on the floor, so I figured she never came home.
This got me kinda worried, but I figured she just went to her
place. I gave her a call and talked to her roommate.
Evidently she hadn't been there either. Now I was
worried. As it turned out, my girl of a year and a half,
decided she would stay at the party. She started making
out with the same pricks that just kicked my ass. She
was drunk, but that's still really fucked up. I wanted
to kill her, until I heard the rest of her story. What
happened was, after she sobered up a bit, she decided to get
the fuck out of there, but these frat boy mother fuckers
stopped her. They kept telling her she had to stay and
"help them out". These fuckers decided that
they would try to get her to suck them all off. When she
wouldn't, they held her down and took turns raping her.
They finally let her go and she went to the hospital.
She spent the night in the emergency room because she was
bleeding a lot. I was crushed.
She called the cops and filed
a report. 3 months later 4 of them came to trial.
I sat in the court room listening to testimony from my girl
friend about how they savagely rapped her, it was enough to
drive anyone crazy. I then had to listen to these
fuckers paint my girlfriend out to be a whore, and how it was
consensual. The judge basically called her a slut and
sent the frat boys on there way. I was so fucking mad I
didn't know what to do.
I thought about it for a few
weeks. I knew I had to get even with these fuckers, but
I didn't know what to do. I decided I would go to one of
their party's and vandalize their house. Hopefully they
wouldn't remember me and I could get away with straight
fucking their shit up. On April 27th, 1970 I
knocked on the door to the frat house. The guy who
opened the door was one of the guys who raped my girlfriend.
He recognized me immediately. Before any of us could say
anything, I pulled out a pen and stabbed him 4 times in the
neck. I was in shock. I had never seen so much
blood in my life. He just kinda grabbed his neck and
fell to the floor. He just looked up at me, rolled his
eyes back and died. He just laid there. No one did
a fucking thing. I closed the door and ran. I had
my car there but I just kept running. Once again I made
the 2 mile trek. this time the blood on my hands wasn't
mine. Two hours later the cops picked me up.
About a year later I was
sentenced to 25 years to life for first degree murder.
Since then I have tried to answer the question in my own head
a million time. Why did I do it? Stile asked the
the same question, and truthfully I don't know. I never
had any intention of doing it. I just snapped. But
I don't regret it at all. I can't say I would do it
again if I had to do it over, but I certainty don't regret it.
I think my main regret is that I only killed one of them.
My girlfriend stayed with me for about a year after I was
sentenced, but then she graduated and moved away. I
haven't heard from her since. It broke my heart.
That was the worst part. She was my life...
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