Dear David,

You ask such a simple question. I see the innocence on your face. I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but it is. Why did I shoot? It seems like an easy answer in the language of the prosecutor: I am a tormented veteran who sought out revenge for the hell I’ve been though while at war. I deserve to be locked up because I an too dangerous for the public. From the mouth of my lawyer: I am a severely traumatized man who needs mental health, not the confines of a prison that would only torture me more.

My wife likes to tell me I have a problem. She sounds a lot like my lawyer. She likes to stash away my guns out of fear of what I would do to myself. She wakes up often in the night after the first incident, screaming my name. I would go from my own nightmare into her nightmare, everything merging together in hell. I never know which is worse.

My brother thinks I have some sort of psychopathy. He claims that he saw me torture animals when we were kids. He did not understand that birds are not animals I particularly like, but I never tortured them. I played with them a little rough, but there was never an injury under my watch. I always returned them to the wild when I was no longer playing with them.

My parents probably would say I am a sweet innocent child who does no wrong. As much as they were great parents, I don’t think they knew what was going on behind the scenes. They rather look away, then look behind the stage I dance across everyday.

So why shoot my best friend? The truth is I don’t know. He was the closest person to me—the one person who knew what I’ve been through. I guess I didn’t want them to know. I didn’t want them to try to take away my last redemption...I couldn’t do it after that. Shock got to me.

By the time you read this, my life is over anyways. I got what I deserved in the end for my wicked ways. No one will miss me now. Tomorrow is the day they decide my fate. I can never let them know why.

It’s the end of the line for me, kid. Maybe you can do something more worthwhile than me. There’s still a chance for you. Me? No, there’s no hope for the wicked.

Tell your mom, I love her, and I’ll see her on the other side one day.