Dad shoots son in the head for molesting a relative. Happy Thanksgiving.
This post might have better posted a little earlier, but it didn’t come to me until it did and, well, that’s just the way my mind works.
So the thing about Thanksgiving – and not that this is any type of deep new insight – is, to me, the family. For all those of us who have families for which we can honestly be thankful, it is perhaps the best holiday to come together and simply enjoy the fact that you have a tribe. A place to belong. A place where no matter how hard, how fast, or how far you fall, you know there will always be enough of love there to cushion the fall.
And not that you haven’t heard this before either, but the older I get the more likely I am to start counting my blessings before I begin counting the things that really piss me off. Because when it’s all said and done, I look around and I have to consider myself one of the more fortunate ones. Because no matter how angry my father may have gotten at me when I was a kid – and believe me I can think of a couple incidents where he had sufficiently more than sufficient reason to punch me through a wall – he would never accept that I was so worthless that his only option was nto shoot me in the head as if I were a rabid dog and not even give a damn or shed a tear.
Jamar Pinkney Jr., a 15-year-old kid from Highland Park, just outside of Detroit, came from a different kind of family. When Jamar did something that was admittedly horrible (and no, if you read the story, I never did anything like that, but still), he asked his mother what he should do. She suggested that he get on his knees and ask his father for forgiveness. So that’s what Jamar did. And that’s when his father began to beat him and kick him around the room. Then he stripped him naked, marched him outside, and put a bullet through his son’s skull.
Now, once again, what Jamar did was seriously sick. Sexual molestation of a 3-year-old is about as sick as it gets. And, quite truthfully, if Jamar Pinkney Sr. had been the father of the molested 3-year-old then I wouldn’t have been quite so shocked. It still would have been a horrible, horrible crime, but for a father to hear that his daughter was raped by the person responsible is just about enough to make the rocks cry out. I can’t honestly say what I would do with that kind of poisonous knowledge raging between my ears.
And then again, God knows I don’t know what I’d do if I was the father of a child molester either. Except that the kid was begging his father for mercy. And I’m only going on what I read in the story here because quite obviously I wasn’t there and I don’t know the history and there’s so much I don’t know and that even the reporter doesn’t know, but it sounded as if the kid was well aware he was sick and that he needed help. He even reportedly said that he needed counseling.
Imagine that for a moment. A 15-year-old child who already knows he’s so emotionally sick that he needs professional help. So he goes to the only source of refuge he knows, the refuge of his family. And his refuge snatches his life away like ripping guts out of a fish. Nothing left inside except blood and an echo of whoever Jamar Pinkney was and, perhaps, who he hoped he could become.
With a little help from his family.
SHAMELESS PLUG: Read my wife’s blog @ The “D” Spot Redeux