I here testify, to all of those who read this, no matter how bad it gets, cling to the good, because it’ll keep you sane.
My mother was declared terminally ill three days after the President returned from his meeting with the U.N. where we denied the request to attack germany after a series of bombings. Life for her was a nightmare. Migraines were mercy for her, and when she was awake. Her life must have sucked. But even though she was sick, she was a joy. She found ways to find joy, and honestly, because of her ability to find it in those scenarios, it showed me a way to last until I was freed.
It sucked being in prison, but I did do the crime, and justly had to serve the time. I understand that people think the judge looked at me with the smirk of ‘judgment’, but I don’t think so. I think he read me, and before he had even heard my story, knew some of the situation I was in. The lesson his duty was to teach me, humbled me and though I haven’t seen him since the trial, I think I owe him.
But enough about that, The background, is my mom was given some expensive meds, and we couldn’t afford it. My dad’s pride wouldn’t allow us to accept donations, or beg. To this day, I hate him for the life he indirectly took. Had he of just accepted one, she’d still be here with us.
The day was a thursday, I had just gotten home from school. I had good grades. I wasn’t the most popular, but I wasn’t a loser for sure. I was invited to just about all the parties.
But, I was coming home and my friend, Joseph, had just split off to his street, and my house was the one just over the hill. My dad came speeding by, in his Ford P.O.C. (for those of you not familiar with the model, it’s a Ford PEICE OF CRAP).
He slammed on the breaks, and shouted something at me. I didn’t recognize it, yet at the same time, it terrified me. He shouted to get into the car, but I couldn’t. I took off running to the house, and got there just as my Dad was pulling into the driveway.
Mom was in pain. Veins pulsed on her head, and sweat and tears poured off her face. I couldn’t look. I turned away, and my dad came in angry as ‘H’ E double hockey sticks. But I knew he was panicking. He picked her up, and took her to the truck. That’s when I came up with the bright idea. We needed money, and up the street, there were three gas stations, which each contained $150.00 in the register at a time. So I figured it would go to a good cause. But honestly, I was being rash, and shouldn’t have left the house.
I went into the building with a shotgun, and held it to the register man’s nose. It was quick, and he didn’t get close enough to the counter to hit the button. Second was about the same. But the third, as I was walking away, the man came out with a gun, and shot at me.
Now most would have returned fire, but me being a good ole person decided not to bring ammo, so that I wouldn’t shoot someone on accident. But I forgot that Joe, the one who owned the gas station was a practicing citizen of our second amendment right to bear arms. He had assault rifles, and pistols. I think that I was the only one who was stupid enough to do that.
So I hid behind the pump, and began to cry. He recognized my voice, and came around the the tank, still holding the gun to my head. I grabbed the barrel, and jerked it passed my head, then it was who could win the gun. In the end, it was pointed a a propane tank storage crate thing, and it went off. His whole back was set on fire. It was his finger which pulled the trigger, but my stupidity that killed him.
He took the shrapnel, and fire, and I was unscaved of all but a few scratches and a small burn on my left arm.
The trial wasn’t slow. My mom had died, and my dad was pissed. I in a way was glad to be sentenced to jail, because I wouldn’t have to deal with him. But then again, twenty years behind bars, wasn’t too pretty sounding. But through divine intervention, I got out in one year.
The program which got me out, is also the one which inspired me to write this, AKA it was part of the contract I had to sign.
But the program’s name was SLATE, which stood for something or another. But it cleared your civilian record, and let you start anew, without past crimes on your back, depending on what you got in for.
As for me, had I of been convicted of murder, I wouldn’t have qualified, because it would have been armed robbery, assault, theft, murder, and lots more that I wouldn’t rather list.
The judge could have put me in for life, had he of convicted me of all the charges I was faced with automaticly.
Oh, by the way, my name is Jason Monroe
