This is not a fluff post. But it something that I have to get out.
Ever since poor little Tori Stafford went missing one day after school about three years ago, I have followed the case in the media. As the details surrounding her abduction and murder came to light, it was more than difficult to read, but I felt it was the least I could do out of respect for Tori and her family. I hoped the energy of people reading their newspapers might somehow make its way to Tori’s parents and keep them as strong as humanly possible. Especially as I sat in my safe home with my children sound asleep in their beds while they endured the details of their little girl’s murder over and over again in a court room.
If you do not know the details of this impossibly brutal and violent crime, my aim is not to upset you. All you need to know is the crime defies belief and highlights the most evil side of humanity.
The last few months have centred on the second suspect on trial as the first suspect confessed earlier and is serving a life sentence. But the second trial has been more problematic – there has been changes in testimony and inadmissible incriminating evidence (obtained without a search warrant) and the defence has used these facts to whitewash the defendant as an innocent bystander. So when I read that the jury was retiring to reach a verdict I was scared. Very scared that they might not find him guilty for the reasons above.
This morning I came downstairs and saw in the paper that they found the defendant guilty on all charges. He was sentenced to life imprisonment with no chance of parole for 25 years (never is too soon, I say).
When I read this bittersweet news, I actually cried. Tears of relief. Tears of gratitude that the right decision had been made. I cried for an innocent, trusting little girl who disappeared hand in hand with a stranger after school in broad daylight and never saw “the little dog” with which she was enticed by two monsters (who belong in the Homolka/Bernardo hall of infamy).
Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. And so I cried for Tori’s mother.
I like to think that the tears of mothers around the country might help wash away some of her pain and grief.
But I know that is not possible.
And so I cried some more.