broomcloset ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Timothy McVeigh is dead Timothy McVeigh is dead. He was executed by lethal injection by order of the US Federal Justice system. And I can't stop thinking about it. The death penalty is something that I haven't deliberately thought about. Sure, I've been in (or, more accurately, near) the occational discussion about the death penalty: pros, cons, morals, deterrence, etc. But I've never actually sat down and thought about what I specifically believed about it until, perhaps, today. Okay, I don't think "thinking" about it is accurate either; more like "feeling" about it. When I first turned on the TV today and heard the words "Timothy McVeigh is dead," I couldn't stop listening in the same way you can't stop looking at a car crash. You want to pull away but you can't. Soon, a dark, heavy pit of sickness took up residence in the bottom of my stomach and still it sits there, slowly rocking back and forth. "Something's wrong," it mutters under it's breath. "Something's wrong with this arrangement." And I think there is. I somehow don't feel it was right to kill Timothy McVeigh. Ask me why and I can't quite tell you. It's a feeling more than a thought. Do I think he committed a heinous crime? Yes. Do I think he deserved to be punished for it? Yes. Do I think he had the right be fed three solid meals a day, be given a bed to sleep in, to watch cable TV or to better himself through free education for the rest of his natural life? ... Yes. Okay, maybe not the cable TV, but the rest, yes. Why?!? you scream at me, how dare you want him fed, clothed and educated while millions of homeless around the country are going without?!? I don't know, I reply, but I feel I do. Aren't there some basic human rights to which everyone is entitled? Are there basic rights to which, even though you have taken away someone's rights - or hundreds, even thousands, of someones' rights, you are still entitled? I can't answer that question. But maybe there are and my inner-self, my soul, my spirit, whatever, is telling me that there is. Maybe that dark, heavy, rocking pit of sickness in my stomach is the physical manifestation of that message. So what do I know for sure? Timothy McVeigh is dead. ... And I can't say it's right that he is. ____ Thanks to all of you who are expressing your interest in my diary; it really means a lot. It's funny - I didn't actually start this diary to get attention, but now that I know there are people out there who enjoy reading it, I'd hate to have it dry up. :) As I mentioned in the last entry, I'm going to be password-protecting this diary at the end of the week. If you want to keep reading, please join the Notify List (using the textbox above) then email me mentioning that you've joined the list and why. This is just a little extra measure to help me keep my writing away from those I feel I need to. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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