My Son Was Convicted of First-Degree Murder
How on earth did we get here??
I don’t know when it happened — that precise moment when I knew it was just a matter of time. That moment when I understood — to the depths of my soul — that I’d lost my little boy forever, and the heart of a killer had taken his place.
You would think there would have been a defining moment, a loud, screaming message saying, “Your son will be a murderer!” But there wasn’t. The “knowing” had simply slid into my life, quietly, insidiously, and along with it, a sense of it always having been there. Yet I know there was a time when it was not.
People are often quick to judge those who are violent, who break laws, who seem to thrive on the darkest side of life. And they’re often quick to judge the parents, too. “Where are the parents? Bet they didn’t give a rat’s ass! Gave the rotten bastard a terrible upbringing! Didn’t they see what was happening? Why didn’t they do something about it? What’s the matter with parents these days? No sense of discipline!”
I’m quite certain that sort of thing is true in many cases. But not in this one.
An Unusual Beginning
Before continuing with Jacob’s story, I must share a bit of relevant background information.
