Who Am I To Judge?


So apparently this prep school kid from a wealthy DC suburb at an elite old-moneyed Virginia university with a history of alcohol-fueled, racist, and violent behaviors broke into his ex-girlfriend’s apartment, kicked-in her bedroom door then beat her dead and stole her computer then disposed of her computer then went home to sleep it off as she died in a pool of her own blood and cerebral fluid.

These are facts.  The kid waved his right to remain quiet and told the police as much.

But who am I to judge?

You know you’re in a heck of a pickle when your own big money lawyer doesn’t spin the story as he-wasn’t-involved-at-all but can only say, “he didn’t intend to kill anyone.”

I’m a dad (as has been previously established, doy) and for this reason I believe the story has had a profound impact on me.  I don’t know these kids, but I am deeply saddened inside my soft heart.  I have a child, a daughter.  Kids get into and out of relationships.  College is away from our control and view.  I know how some dudes behave.  I know how alcohol impairs.  I know how the entitled steamroll.  And I fear for what asshole, jock, entitled boys do to everyone in their paths.  Especially women.

But who am I to judge?

At some point all kids leave their parental sphere of influence in favor of the sphere occupied by friends and contemporaries.  Parents are kept at varying degrees of arm’s length.  Some keep a pinkie toe in the parental pool throughout adolescence, others run far afoul of rules and laws.  Some leave the nest and never return, where others eventually find their way back.  Some are gang raped outside of their Richmond, California homecoming dances.  And some get murdered three weeks from graduation from elite old-moneyed Virginia universities by raging, drunk, entitled jock ex-boyfriends.

As my wife said, if this had happened to her child, the defendant would have to be in protective custody for his safety…from her.  Eye for a motherfucking eye, preppy boy.  I agreed.

Anyway, the defendant has a family full of money and will most likely get off far lighter than the poor, the black, or the unconnected.  Loopholes and technicalities will be found.  Innocent until proven guilty.  I know!  Still, I don’t see him escaping real, hard, general population time in a Virginia prison where he will no longer be the free-floating BMOC star on the rise.  In all it’s a lose-lose tragic fucked-up situation for everyone involved to many degrees of separation.

But who am I to Judge?


One Response to “Who Am I To Judge?”

  1. My Sad Homies « Mydadhomies Says:

    […] You could tell Don was from newish money because he was a guy with a lot of toys and exaggerated behaviors. Giant Caddy Esco with “mad rims,” huge baroque watch, giant house…you could tell he had no idea how to live an old-school opulent life. But it was his transparent frat-boyishness of Don that most concerned me. Something about him reminded me of the George Hugely type but who am I to judge? […]

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