Whenever a new killing spree occurs, everybody descends on the scene like flies to a pile of shit. I won't deny myself being a part of that halo. I've long been fascinated by and attracted to stories of true crime and mass murder. Everybody is for one reason or another. Call it morbid curiosity if you need to call it something.
When these crimes happen in your backyard and on your own streets one cannot help but feel a certain sense of association. When you can hop in your car and within a few minutes find yourself standing on an erstwhile murder scene, would it not be human nature to ask "could that have been me?"
That is the whole nerve that serial killers and their twisted brand of population control touch in all of us, because when you can't even do simple tasks like mowing your lawn or pumping your gas without the threat of being shot in the back of the head, how is that supposed to make you feel?
Some people might tell us that by going into the city at night we are risking our lives because we can get robbed or raped or beaten to death by some street trash who carries around a dirty baby doll for conversation.
Society is a bigger toilet than ever before and if one really thinks about it you are really not safe anywhere no matter what you are doing.
In October 2002 my area was overrun with panic and stricken by fear, all courtesy of a man named John Allen Muhammad
And his most studious little helper, teenager Lee Boyd Malvo.
The beltway snipers.
I remember this time period very well. The whole caper played out like a bad TV movie of the week. But, for roughly a month, these two dudes had everybody in my surrounding area shitting bricks.
People were killed doing mundane and everyday things like cutting their grass or pumping gas into their car at the gas station. Even making the short journey from the grocery store to one’s own parked car was a life threatening task.
The whole city and everywhere nearby was in a panic. It was this typical human over reaction that caused the first botched piece of evidence in this whole case about a white boxed van. To add even more confusion and misinterpretation, the vulturistic nature of the media had to do their character sketch and suspect analysis and came up with a middle aged white business man. Well, they were partially right. It was a man. But, there was also a boy. Oh yeah, and no white boxed van.
While deputy dawg and metro's finest made every white person with a white van drop and give them twenty and bend over and smile pretty for the camera , Muhammad and Malvo drove around shooting people in the head from a hole in the trunk of their blue Chevy caprice.
The whole scenario was just very odd from the start. They only killed people on weekdays, and seemed to have weekends off. So, it was like a five day panic fest and work week and then . . . . Weekends off. So, everybody pumped gas and cut grass and sprinted from store to car on the two day fun fest free for all. It gave even another reason for people to hate Mondays.
I used to spend Friday and Saturday nights partying at my friends, Danny and Mary’s house, and we used to dub every weekend a "sniper party weekend." Every single person who would come and go would get an extra handshake or a harder hug or a bigger pat on the back because . . . . After all, who knows? Any person in that room could have been next and we might never see them again.
It’s amazing the thoughts that will enter a person’s mind when they are living as if every step on a crack could not only break your mothers back but also be your last step.
I’ll be honest . . . . . I never once gave it a thought or a even a fraction of concern. I figure nature is nature and life is going to happen however it's going to happen and me going out and buying a bullet proof vest and matching skull cap is not gonna change a thing. I mean, if Elvis can die on the toilet then who says I won't die while walking to my mailbox or going to the door to pay the pizza guy?
I even remember a close call I had because after they caught Muhammad and Malvo and were doing a time line on their activity I found out that they were questioned by the police when found sleeping in their car on a Baltimore city street. Meanwhile, that same night, a few blocks over, I was at the Ottobar seeing the band Today is the Day, and my car was parked around the corner. It was a week night too. Certainly there was a literal case of today being THE DAY. My final day, had things played out differently.
As it turns out Malvo got multiple life sentences without parole and Muhammad is actually going to die by lethal injection tonight at 9:00 pm est. at Greenville correctional center in Jarrett, Virginia.
The beltway snipers were eventually linked to more killings across the United States, but in the end they were held accountable and are most notable for 10 people dead and 3 injured in my locale in October 2002, only a year and some change after 9/11 changed the way people thought for about a minute and some change.
So, I guess this was what New Yorkers felt like in 1976-77 with Berky Witz. That the next time you walk to your car it could be the last walk. Day to day life is really no different. Every day..... ANY DAY, rather.... could in fact be your last. Yours, mine. All them shits. It's all a part of this circus we call life. Bullet proof vests and helmets don't really mean shit in the scope of things. Particularly if it's a snipers scope. A walk to the mailbox or your car could be that final walk even if one is not being watched through a scope. Catastrophe could strike any of us down at any given second. That is all part of the thrill ride we are taking just by having been born into this crazy world. It's a circus, I tell you.
They got peanuts at the circus. Hot dogs too.
I wonder if there are going to be any sniper weenie roasts tonight in the district. Certainly this would be the perfect ending to the murder show. Just be careful the next time you are walking to your car. Hell, in the spirit of living out loud maybe we should all dance to our cars. Still need to be careful though. Don't wanna drop your peanuts or your weiner.
****Original post date 11/10/2009****
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