On one side there was a man so ill that he lit himself on
fire, literally burned himself to death, and on the far other side of the
spectrum, a man charged with the most horrific murder I’ve heard of since,
well, a long time. My struggle will
become clearer as I write, I think. I
can’t be sure of that as I am still struggling with my thoughts.
We cannot fathom what kind of things were going through 31
year old Cole Hunter’s mind to make him think lighting himself on fire rational
way to end pain. There is nothing
rational about the action he took. I
mean it’s not rational in the first place to want to die. That’s not a rational thought, that’s a
mental illness thought. Then to take an
action that causes nothing but agonizing physical pain. If
you think about it, logically, without emotion, there are many other ways to
die, a lot less painful ways. Perhaps he
was trying to kill those things in his mind, only he could see and hear. Apparently this man suffered from
schizophrenia. He often found himself
battling with voices and images that no one else saw (see his funeral notice). Imagine not just battling with someone human,
standing there in front of you, perhaps someone you can have an intelligent
argument with, but with someone your mind has made up. There is no winning, no rationalizing with
that. That’s just a broken mind
torturing a soul. I can only assume
that, like many of us, when we argue with ourselves, we rarely win. He lived this way full time, all the
time. Poor soul.
Cole Hunter
I think we can all find pity with this man. In so much pain he chose that way out.
Now think of Luka Magnotta.
This 32 year old man, apparently planned a murder. He then acted on that plan murdering a young man. He dismembered
the body of his victim performing sexual acts on the body parts. He fed parts of the body to his dog, and
apparently killed his dog. He then cleaned up, and disposed of the body parts. Some of the body parts he mailed across Canada to various people. He planned and made his escape to Europe. He was caught and brought back to trial in
Canada. It's surreal to just type all that.
Cole, who lit himself on fire was a poor lost soul. Luka is a horrible monster don’t you think? Luka killed another human being, not
himself. He did things that no one can
comprehend doing. He should be put down
like a rabid animal don’t you think? I
have thought so, I do think so. And then....
What’s the same here, between two human beings, is the improper functioning of their
brains? Neither one functioned
right. The guy who lit himself on fire to die was surely not sane. I pity him.
There is no other way to look at it.
But how is the guy who murdered someone, dismembered the
body, saved the body parts, had sex with the body parts, sane? I don’t pity him. I want him punished. Could this man be sane
and do those things? Or does he deserve pity for being that sick? That’s what I
am struggling with. I have no pity for
him, none. The other day I said to my
husband, “I don’t care if he is mentally ill, this is sick sh*t, he deserves
the death penalty”.
If we can’t even remotely fathom doing the things he did
then doesn’t that make him the sickest of us all?
Then we bring ourselves to the question of what to do with
someone like Luka Magnotta. He has
admitted to all he has been charged with.
All of it. At the same time he is
claiming he is not guilty of all the charges because of his mental illness. Does that mean because he is insane he should
not be held accountable for his actions.
I am? I am held accountable
aren’t I? Even morally, I hold myself
accountable to my own actions. If I
suddenly, if all people who suffer with mental illness suddenly started
thinking we could do anything at any time because of our
illness…*shudder*. I can’t even begin to
think how the world would change.
I don’t believe for one second that Luka Magnotta should be
released. He is dangerous, end of
story. Should he be sent to a mental
institution for life? I just left one of
those places and I have to say that I would not want to be on the same floor as
him, let alone the same institution. How
would that be fair to non-dangerous people who are sick? I go in for medication changes and some
intensive therapy and I end up rooming next to someone who can dismember another
human being? Wouldn’t that be a violation
of my rights for a reasonable expectation of safe care and treatment?
Should he be sent to prison?
He did commit a
crime. Can he get treatment inside of
prison? Do we do that inside of prison? If you go into prison with flu, I am pretty
sure you can get treatment for the flu.
If you go into prison with a mental illness, can you get treatment for
that illness? I am not sure this
happens. Not effectively. Please do not get me wrong. I do not believe that this man deserves
treatment and then a release back into the world. As I said already, he did things, no one can even
imagine doing. I am just saying it’s
painfully obvious he was/is, sick. You’d have to be wouldn’t you? To do this?
I would hope so otherwise what does this say about the human race?
So where do we draw this line? How do we draw this line? Make sure the sick are getting treatment yet
fairly and justly punished for their crimes.
If someone goes into a school and mass murders young children is
this person not insane? No sane person
could do that right? I cannot bring
myself to think of them as sane as sane people do NOT do those things. So what do we do with these people? They are sick. But what they have done is
unforgiveable. Then what? It would make it so much easier if they just took
their own lives instead of hurting others wouldn’t it? Had Luka Magnotta taken his own life instead
of doing all this to another human being we would be saying “poor lost
soul” wouldn't we? But he didn’t. He committed grossly inhumane acts
instead. It sure would be easier if
every person who hurt another at least then hurt themselves as punishment for
their own bad behaviour. When the
headlines read “murdered then used the last bullet on themselves” we sigh
relief. We will not have to judge.
When I was in the hospital there were people suffering with
schizophrenia in there. Please note I am
trying not to use the defining term of “schizophrenic”. They are people too. Like my being beyond just white skinned,
blond hair, with green eyes. I have many
other traits. Having Bi Polar is just
one of many. In their case, they suffer
with schizophrenia. I was scared of these people at first. I won’t lie.
From my observations, they typically, while their medications are being
rebalanced, have little to no interpersonal skills. Almost always they pace the hallways. I think because of the voices they cannot
stop moving, they need to keep active to try to distract themselves. I came to learn that most people suffering
with schizophrenia are harmless, with no intent to harm. Many times they harm people only because they
become paranoid about being harmed themselves and act out defensively. I find it hard to believe Luka Magnotta’s
actions were in defense of himself? Or
these mass murderers in the schools were defending themselves? But it is factual that in most cases people
with schizophrenia strike out, lash out, in perceived defense of
themselves.
I became somewhat friendly with two people suffering with
schizophrenia in the hospital. One a
pretty young woman who also suffered with multiple personalities disorder. And another, a young man. When I say friendly I mean saying “hello” and
the occasional short conversations in passing.
Both of these people were very sick when I arrived in hospital. The young woman, let’s name her “Jane”, had
outbursts where she would yell at no one sometimes. But she didn’t seem like she was going to
hurt anyone. She was fighting with
someone, or something, we couldn’t see. When
I first arrived I actually called my husband and said, “there’s a woman here
talking to herself as if she was on the phone having a lively conversation, but
there is no phone”. I was making light
of her illness because I was scared of her, of it, the illness and her
behaviour due to it. We often make light
of which we don’t understand, which in most cases means we are scared.
The young man, “John” we will call him, was not socially
interactive whatsoever until near the end of my stay. By the time I left he knew my name and we
would always stop and check in with each other about how our days were going. I once walked out of my room only to find him
lying on the floor, just outside my door, arms linked behind his head casually
looking at the ceiling. I asked,
“Whatcha doin’?” “Thinking“, he replied
innocently as if lying on a hospital floor and gazing at the tiled ceiling as
if it were the sky was perfectly reasonable.
Another day I was telling a story about going to see a gospel choir and
as I can do, I was being loud and boisterous in my telling of the story yelling
out “Hallelujah, praise be, Amen”. John
walked into the room and said, “I needed those words today, Hallelujah
sister”. From then on, we passed each
other in the hallways and said “Hallelujah brother” (and “sister”) to each
other. Others looked on strangely and we
went our way as if this was completely natural.
It was, for us.
Jane was a different story.
I tried to make a point of saying “Hi” to Jane as often as
possible. Sometimes she saw me and heard
me, sometimes I wasn’t there and her voices were in charge. Sometimes I think her personality at the time
was not Jane, but in fact someone entirely different, someone else. One day I came to be walking directly behind
Jane on our way back to the hospital. We
walked for a good five minutes and in that time she spoke entirely in the third
party, as if Jane wasn’t actually her.
The things she said to herself, that happened to Jane, that people did
to Jane, why Jane was sick, ripped me in two.
If any one of the things she said were true, I can see entirely why she needed
to create alternate personalities to deal with her pain. On that day I became Jane’s biggest
supporter. After that, a day didn’t go
by without my making eye contact and saying hello. There were many days that Jane would dress
up, put in hair extensions, wear makeup, and look very different than the day
before. Instead of saying “Hi Jane” on
these days, not wanting to trigger her personality change, I would simply tell
her how pretty she was. In a very
childlike voice more often than not, she would thank me and wander off.
One evening as I was sitting in the lounge two patients
broke into song. They are both
professional singers by trade so they were harmonizing with each other for
fun. Another patient was strumming the guitar. It was all very civilized and not as random as it sounds. I must say, I did find it interesting that
“performers” were suffering with mental illness. Those that look for outside affirmations
through attention and praise for their performances. Performances they put on solely to entertain
others, to make others happy. Makes
sense they’d struggle with their identity doesn’t it?
But I have steered off course. The beautiful singing caught Jane’s ear and
she came into the lounge with the biggest smile on her face. She made eye contact with me so I removed my
knitting from the chair next to me and she sat down. This is basically the conversation that
followed. (I use
the word “hurt” here as substitution for another word which is too harsh a word in reality to
use).
Jane: It’s
beautiful isn’t it? He said you wouldn’t make eye contact with me so you
wouldn’t have to talk to me.
Me: Who said
Jane?
Jane: My
husband. My husband said.
Me: Is he here?
Jane: He’s right
there, next to your husband (no one was actually there).
Jane: They
aren’t being very nice. *laughs* They cheat you
know. On both of us.
Me: My husband
cheats, are you sure Jane?
Jane: They both do,
it’s what men do. They don’t mean to
hurt us, it’s just their way, it’s because they are sick.
Me: I am sorry
your husband cheated Jane, I don’t think mine does though.
Jane: He does, you
will see one day. Just remember when he
wants to hurt you it’s so he can transfer his pain to you. He doesn’t mean to hurt you.
Me: Jane, I am
sorry your husband hurt you.
Jane: It’s
okay. It’s why I am sick you know. He was sick then he gave it to me. He hurt me for 8 years until all his illness
was inside me. Now I am in here and he’s
out there free. I haven’t seen him since
the last time he hurt me. He doesn’t
talk to me, see me, see our son *laughs*, he just left. Funny huh?
Me: Oh Jane
honey, I am so sorry you’ve been hurt.
Jane: Okay, I am
gonna go now. (Suddenly her voice was very childlike and she almost skipped out
of the room).
My breath caught in my throat as I watched her transform
from a woman to child before my eyes. My
heart broke for her.
Upon reading about the Luka Magnotta trial I found myself
wondering what I would think if I found out that either Jane or John hurt somebody? Would I be surprised? Would I pity them as I saw their illness
first hand? Would I want them punished,
or cared for? I guess it all depends on
the heinousness of the crime and how much we know someone doesn’t it? It’s all relative to us, what we think, our
judgements of the situation and the person(s) involved, I guess?
What’s the difference between a weed and a plant? Only the judgement we place upon it…
….(and if
it’s invaded our personal space uninvited I suppose).
No comments:
Post a Comment