Bad Things

Last week, a woman was murdered in my town. She allegedly went out for a run one morning, and a concerned friend called 911 when she missed an appointment several hours later. Two days after that, her body was found in a storm drain.

Because violent crime is fairly rare where we live, the case has received a lot of media attention, and the details that have emerged of this woman, her life and, ultimately, her death are deeply disturbing. On the outside, she was Just Like Me. A stay-at-home-mom, living in a nice suburban subdivision. Her family, including her identical twin sister, lived far away, and her husband works for a tech company. She appeared to have all of the trappings of a happy, prosperous life (our local paper was careful to report the brand of luxury car she drove and of the luxury purse she left behind).

As the days went on, though, the news reports have made it increasingly clear that, despite the official lack of a suspect, the media believes the dead woman's husband to be her murderer. Interviews with the woman's family paint a photo of someone trapped in this country, entirely dependent on her husband's immigration status. She wasn't allowed to work, and if she left him, he could have her deported (to Canada). Worse, her children are American citizens, and her husband had confiscated their passports so she couldn't take them back home with her if she did try to leave. A few days later, the woman's parents sought and won an emergency custody order for the couple's children. And today's paper quotes the initial 911 call, where the concerned friend implies that she's afraid the woman's husband may have done something to her.

The Boy is relieved that it appears the dead woman was the victim of domestic violence. In his mind, he'd rather not have a random killer running around lose. But frankly, I think random would bother me less than if this woman's husband actually did kill her.

I just keep thinking of their kids. Not only have they lost their mom at a terribly young age, but they may soon be dealing with the fact that it was daddy who killer her. My heart breaks for them. I can't wrap my mind around the idea of any parent willingly taking away his children's mother. I mean, even if he outright hated his wife, wouldn't you think love of his children would give him pause? How could any human being cause that kind of pain to his own family?

So, every day that the police declare that they have no suspect in this case, I hope. I hope, in a sick way, that it turns out this woman's death was the result of random chance, of a moment of violence committed by a stranger. That her children will at least have one parent remaining to them, who can help them seek justice for their mom.

(I, uh, hope it goes without saying that, whoever killed this woman, I hope they're caught and punished soon. I may be rooting for random violence over domestic violence, but that doesn't mean I relish the idea of a killer roaming our streets).