The Reality of Murder
Posted: Wednesday, December 21, 2011
by Octavia Hansen
Octavia Hansen
One of my friends was murdered in 2007. A wonderful woman I had known a long time. It's been four years now but it's still fresh in my mind and for the police the case has grown cold.
Real murder is nothing like television or the movies. No matter how gruesome they try to portray it, it will never be the same. I'm sure this is the way of war films and hard luck story films. One of my Vietnam Vet friends mentioned during Full Metal Jacket, everyone was too old. Teen-aged boys were being sent to war, very few military men were over twenty-five -- it was determined that as soldiers grew older they grew more careful and didn't fight as hard. In all movies about concentration camps, everyone is too well fed, standing too straight, looking too alive. Movies and television set in the Old West -- everyone has good teeth and again, everyone is too old for their parts. Also, it was a time that everyone knew how to use a gun. Everyone's life depended on it, for food, for security. No one ever threatened an entire town -- sooner or later he would have to eat, sleep or turn his back somewhere and all they had to do was wait.
Talking to the police was a hollow experience. Not much was said. There was little concentration on the case. Not that I blame them. Where do you start? Especially when it was someone who could get close enough that there was no struggle. All the time I was with the police, it was quiet. There was no dramatic music rising in the background. There wasn't the incessant ring of telephones or slamming doors. I felt empty. There was now a space in my life. I had seen her only days before, we laughed and were happy, said silly things and the day was perfect. People loved her. She was kind to animals.
Now everything changed. I didn't erase her phone number for months, like I could still keep her alive in my mind while I kept those digits. It became especially poignant during holidays and the yearly passing date when I found out the news. I kept all my photos of her but I can't look at them. Maybe in ten years, maybe longer. I've been told to remember the good times. I do, maybe that's why it's been so painful.
When there have been incredibly painful moments in my life, I change things. Whatever I was wearing has to be destroyed; whatever music was playing will never be heard again. As an artist, I never create anything at the time of these emotional wounds. It would only regurgitate the feeling every time it was looked at or listened to ever again, for always.
Her murder is still unsolved. Somewhere there is someone who committed this heinous act, possibly to do it again. Maybe it was a crime of passion and it will never be repeated. Still, it took someone valuable from my world, from the world of others she touched. She was young and beautiful. She'll be that way forever in our minds. And I don't need a bumper sticker or a bracelet or any advertising gimmick to keep her memory forever with me.
The suddenness of it all is terrible to carry. There is so much unfinished business, thoughts, actions, words, when someone is torn from your life. You always think there is a tomorrow when your friends are youthful and vibrant. And when they are gone, you will think of a thousands things about them and for them . . . that was her favorite color, she hated that food, we sat in the back row and laughed all the way through that movie. Now it's over. It will never be anymore. The plans and the anniversaries will go on, with other people, sometimes alone, sometimes cancelled because we can't look at the one empty space between us all.
And I'll wonder . . . I'll think of all the things we were going to do, all the places to explore, all the photos she's in but I can't ever go back again. She was a friend. Perhaps closer than a family member because she was chosen, not forced by a marriage or a common set of genes. She was the friend that was closer than a sister, more fun than a boyfriend.
Damn. Now she's gone. Time has stopped for her. Time has stopped for her in my mind. Everything I ever think about her will end at the brick wall of time in my brain. No matter was is recalled, it ends. It ends badly. I don't think anyone ever gets over the loss of a close person in their life, family or friend. I think we only learn to live with the loss and build a future they did not have.
This Article has been viewed 83 times. (Not updated in real-time.)
No comments yet.We want your comments! If you can read this, you don't have javascript enabled, so you can't use this comment system. Please enable javascript.