Karma is an amazing thing. Or not.
Yes, I will admit I cheered a little bit when I first read that O.J. Simpson had been "beaten to a bloody pulp" in the prison where he's serving time in Nevada for kidnapping and armed robbery. Quite frankly, the first words that came to mind were, "What goes around comes around, you sorry bastard. How does it feel to be scared for your life?"
Then when I read that his publicist claimed the story was "bogus", I thought, "Well, darn."
Yes, the man is a sore spot with me. A very sore spot. He was acquitted in 1995 of the charge of murder of his ex-wife and of a male friend who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, but he was still a convicted wife-beater. When the first OJ trial was winding down, I had a feeling the verdict would fall the way it did, so I had asked for a half-day at my job, and my co-ordinator gave it to me. It did not help that I was on the team working on Forensic Science at the the time. For the first time, and I hope the last, in my professional life, I requested to be placed on another publication in mid-stream, and this was granted. I went to Lindy's next door and awaited the verdict. Those in the restaurant will remember one woman in her early 30s jumping from her chair and screaming, totally shouting out and shutting down the cheers from a small group of folks to her left. That was me. I think I actually scared them. I am not proud of it, but there it is. I was furious and I was scared, and I was reliving some of the worst of my first marriage.
I wound down and ended with, "May he and my ex-husband rot in HELL!"
One man behind me whispered, "Shut up." The group to our left (They even had balloons!) were very sheepish and quiet.
I was too tired to turn around and start on him, but I did whisper back, "I know what I know."
He had brilliant lawyers on his team, one criminalist on the public payroll had botched procedure, and the detective on the case had decided to take matters into his own hands, only making it worse. He had gotten away with murder. I eventually let it go, but I never forgot.
It took me more than a decade to be able to trust a man enough to get to close to me again after my first husband. I was hyper-picky to make up for a time when I clearly was not picky enough, a time that would have cost me my life had I let it continue.
I was extremely lucky to have met Brian Keveney when I did. We had so many of the right things in common. The few times we quarreled were quiet and civilized. He had never resorted to name-calling or threats, was not manipulative or sneaky. He said what he thought up front, and though he could be stubborn, he would at least listen. We did not have enough years together. His illness happened when I was still reeling from my lay-off, and it was all I could do to keep it together. I was and am lucky in him and in our many friends.
Now a good man is gone from my life. The bad man in my life did not kill me, but he'd had the nerve to try to contact me not long after Brian's funeral. I decided to click "I Do Not Know This Person" on my LinkedIn account and moved on.
It was residual anger that came out and cheered when I'd heard that Mr. Simpson (who may well have been convicted of his first crime after the fact, on top of the crimes he was charged with) had gotten the worst of a dust-up with skinheads in a Nevada prison yard. I am not proud of it, but there it is. There are those who are simply satisfied that he is behind bars, and you may count me as one of those. I will honestly admit to feeling gleeful if it is proven that he's gotten his own back. How much is anger from my past hurts, or even anger at being bereft of a good man while the bad men live on, I cannot tell. I just have to find a healthy way to let that anger ride its course.
Try to be good to each other, all.