Thanks, Mike (from Spain)
For all the things I can say about my parents I can honestly say neither of them ever deliberately or accidently, put my life in danger. Raising a child is quite possibly the hardest job on earth and you may have no idea at all if you’re doing it right until years have passed. Or you may discover you’re done something good with the right kid at the right time, and lo! Then it is all worth it. I can watch my FB friends and tell when they’re having good kid days or bad kid days, because mostly these are people who take anything that resembles failure as a deeply personal manner.
I have no children without paws, but I do know people I consider to be great parents.
Mostly, when I go off the deep end and comment on parenting I’m told without experience I cannot form a valid opinion, and granted, that’s true to some degree, but at the same time, I’ve never been raped but would gladly put a rapist away for life, or execute him, given the right jury trial. I’ve never been a master chef but I know when something is burning. I’ve never captained a boat but I know when the damn thing is sinking. I’ve never shot up crack but I know better than to do it. Some of those work, some do not, but all in all, you get the point.
Two years ago Justin Ross Harris went to work. He spent quite some time sending photos of his body to women who were way too young, sent obscene texts to a few more, and made the comment that he loved his son but everyone needed a break from parenting. At lunch, he went out to his car to check on something, and then spent another four hours texting and sexting away the day.
On his way home, Justin Ross Harris pulled over in a parking lot and did a fairly passable acting job at trying to revive his twenty-two month old son, who Harris had left in the car early that morning, with the intent to kill the child. In this he was successful. A month or so earlier, Harris had researched hot car deaths on the internet. The first words his wife spoke to him at the jail was, “You didn’t say too much did you?”
A jury in Brunswick Georgia just went nuclear on Harris and convicted him of eight counts of malice murder, felony murder, cruelty to children in the first and second degree, sexual exploitation of and dissemination of harmful material to minors. The jury didn’t believe a damn word Harris had to say and they went for his throat. At the sentencing part of the trial neither Harris or his lawyer spoke.
The murder took place in Atlanta, or near enough, and there was a change of venue because people in Atlanta just might have drug Harris out into the street and capped him two in the head and been done with it. Now, you can bet there’s going to be a motion for a retrial because clearly, the jurors took matters into their own hands and convicted this man of being a sorry human being and the worst dad ever.
Or as the alleged human being’s lawyer said, “You cannot convict him of murder just because he’s a reprehensible human being.”
I’m betting 12 folks in Georgia just did something that looks an awfully lot like it. I’m betting 12 more people from Georgia are will to do the same thing.
I get put on that jury, I can and I will. Can I get eleven more people with me?
You researched how long it took for your son to die in a hot car, went out and lunch to make sure he was dead, and then sent photos of your genitals to underage girls.
Folks in Georgia are going to make sure you stay in a box for a while. There won’t be a cell phone for you to play with or photos to take, but if you want to show off your junk, another bet I’m willing to make is someone wants to see it.
Have fun, Harris, for the rest of your life.
This was your son.
We’re giving you a chance at life you never gave him.
Think I can’t find 11 people to help me put you away at the next trial? I promise you I can.
Mike writes regularly at his site: The Hickory Head Hermit.
Opinions expressed in this article are not necessarily those of the management of this site.