I can’t tell you how many regrets rest on my shoulders that will burden me
until the moment I die, which is coming up soon. The biggest thing I did
with my life, however, is not one of them. The day I pulled that trigger was
the proudest of my life, second only to the day when that choice was
validated. I never officially admitted to any wrongdoing. I pleaded not
guilty because of a loophole. You see, they charged me with murder, and I
still don’t count my actions as murder. It was self-defense; I did it in
protection of others. That’s not murder, so we went forward with the trial.
I didn’t do that in the hopes that I would be set free—the evidence against
me was insurmountable—but I wanted the facts to get out there, so the world
would understand why. I didn’t care how the judge and jury saw me. I wanted
everyone else to judge me for themselves. The verdict was a bonus that made
the whole ordeal taste sweeter, but it wasn’t necessary. Several years ago,
a pharmaceutical company made a breakthrough in their research, which made
lifesaving medicine ten times cheaper to produce, and ten times more
effective. It was revolutionary, and should have been the best news for
millions of people. Instead, the company buried the true cost, and only
promoted the benefits, which allowed them to charge more than they were
before, and it was already really inexpensive, sometimes prohibitively so.
The General in this army of scoundrels was the most evil of them all, and he
shall remain nameless, because he’s dead now, and justice prevailed, even
though it did not bring back the estimated 56,000 people who died as a
result of his wicked practices. He could have saved them, but he chose not
to, and it was for that reason that I chose to send him to hell. But it was
no choice at all.
I didn’t know anyone who suffered from the disease, let alone died from it.
It was because of the children. I was outraged when I found out, as were
most others. But I trusted in the judicial system, because that was what we
were taught to believe. I have mixed feelings about it now. He was going to
get away with it. The jury found him not guilty, and he was just going to
walk. His purse might have gotten lighter in a civil case, but he was a
billionaire, he didn’t care. Someone had to do something. Others tried, but
they couldn’t get close. I was fortunate enough to have been working at the
hotel where he was staying while the government worked on reopening his
assets. No one pays attention to the invisible maid, so I found it easy to
slip in with a revolver my late father left me, and which I wasn’t even sure
would function. I didn’t make him beg or suffer like he did so many others.
I told him why I was there, and then ended his life painlessly. I won’t get
into how the trial went. It would have been brutal for someone who hadn’t
resigned themselves to their fate, but I was comfortable, and like I said, I
regret nothing. After a few hours, the jury returned with a not guilty
verdict, despite all the facts, including my admission that I did it. The
judge called it jury nullification, but there was evidently nothing she
could do. I was already becoming a folk hero, and if they thought it was
hard to find an unbiased jury before, it would have been impossible after
all this publicity, so declaring a mistrial probably would have probably
just been a waste of everyone’s time. The prosecutor chose to let it go,
probably out of a secret sympathy for my decision. Now, according to my
attorney, all I needed to worry about was a civil trial. But this never came
to fruition, because no one cared about him.
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