The Death of a Little Girl

A few years ago, I read about a juvenile wolf pack, who were operating out of an elementary school, tormenting a frail, defenseless girl who wouldn’t fight back.  They just pretty much decided they hated her or thought she held herself better than them.  In any event, they finally got her cornered in an alley where no one could hear her screams, lit her on fire and burned her to death.

The reason the story revolted me is obvious, why it haunts me is deeply personal.  I have been at the mercy of such a wolf pack since I was ten years old.  Not only have I never found anyone with sufficient remorse to help me, but I have watched as they occupied the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette and used such offices as Amnesty International for child rape, murder and torture.  The most prominent attorneys in the evil State of Pennsylvania have openly advocated for them, with mirth.

Philosophers speak of unearthing eternal truths or at least eternal clues.  There seems to be one if you coalesce this tragic inability to make anyone feel compassion for the girl who was burned alive with that of an act like Sisyphus, rolling his block up the hill, sure he can make someone sorry for her, only to have it break away from him as the reader sees where it is leading and decides to laugh, turn the page; coalesce this with the scary attempt from history to get a German block warden to stop killing Jews by telling him the bullet is worth more than a Jew.  The problem presented transfixes the poor, poor man in a blink of eternity not unlike a Federal gobbler wondering if the girl’s murder isn’t really fitting tribute to the glamor of rock misers, a politically correct act, balancing the ledger against resentment of Germans.  Perhaps the little girl had insulted someone.

The presumption deployed by the evil State of Pennsylvania is disturbingly Reagan, where a man of the wrong politics isn’t seen for a man at all.  Rather than being a victim of terrifying demons, ravenous with dementia, little Jimmy was probably just a squirming little hippy with egg on his face and a joint in his pocket.  In settling accounts by soothsayer tribune, voiding right to know what exactly he has been accused of, voiding statutes of limitation, ignoring exculpatory evidence, ignoring prosecutors, an unseemly use of the word, who have done their level best to destroy all evidence pertaining to what really happened, the murderers advance the idea that little Jimmy was an unpunished delinquent.

It doesn’t really stand to reason that a dummy battered deaf and neuro-traumatized, if taken into custody by police and hauled before Juvenile Court in the County of Allegheny for being proximate to adult drug offenders, would have been scorned by the courts.  In fact, in North Carolina, the first absence would have been detected and pursued, the victim rescued.  The murdering pig Robert Fripp who leered over the tragedy with the claims of a human rustler didn’t give a hoot that Jimmy reported death threats to Dr. Marshall at Fulton Elementary, bit his fingernails bloody, and told Mr. Matey they were going to kill him before disappearing for three months, being found hiding in the top shelf of his closet at home, refusing to go to school, for reasons of terror.