Observations From the Spectrum

America has a Mental Health Crisis. Some of our neighbors are sick and decide to act. They are falling through the cracks. The solution is simple. It’s not more jails or taking away guns. It’s free access for all to better healthcare including mental. I did not like writing this piece.

I’d like to tell you my story. The story of how I arrived here on death row with just a few more hours to live before I get the juice. Like many of my wing compatriots I am an American mass murderer. Do I regret my choices? I don’t know. I don’t think it matters. What matters, if anything, is the How.

The How is very simple. On February 14th I woke up and decided to go buy a gun and go couple hunting at the Mall of Americas in Minneapolis, Minnesota. The process was easy. I drove to a gun store. Bought me a Glock and an Ar-15 I knew the names. Like when you turn 21 and order a drink for the first time. You are unaware of many of the choices until you become an enthusiast.

Then, I went to a firing range and spent the morning shooting targets. The owner was a nice guy. Matter of fact, so was the owner of the gun shop. Neither was surprised I had never owned or fired a gun before and both were eager to help me learn. I guess they saw me as a repeat customer. 

By noon, I was not missing the target all the time and could reload in about 10 seconds. I felt like I was ready.

Then, I drove up I-95 to the Mall of America from Chicago. Stopped at Starbucks for some coffee and Burger King for some grub. All military believe to eat when you can so that you are fueled when you are ready to go.

My last stop was at a pawn shop that had advertised body armor. Picked that up and a pair of yellow shooting shaded and filled up the tank and drove the rest of the way. Guess I didn’t need to fill the tank but whatever, the bill was never going to be paid by me anyway.

I pulled into the lot and decided to get a smoothie and a steak before going to work. The steak was at Outback and the smoothie at Jamba Juice and tipped both servers well then went out to my car. Suited up and went to work. 

In the next hour I was able to take out 33 couples. Job well done. Turns out a few of the ladies were pregnant so my kill count was 71. 

Now, the why. Life is hard and without balance and resources and support, life is harder. I fell through the cracks and on the day I woke up realizing this, I acted. Period. Like all the others on death row, on the surface I am a normal dude. Below the hood, I think weird I guess. That’s what the doctors here tell me. It’s strange that doctors tell me this at 23 and nare a peep before I shot some people. My thinking hasn’t changed. Just my desire to take action.

My life was hard. I squeaked through high school. Girlfriend broke up with me to date another girl. I had bad acne and a belly. My mom, who had been my best friend, was now dating another man so I guess I was lonely or something.

The doctors say it’s antisocial behavior that got me here. Well, I was in school for 8 hours a day for 12 years and no one thought I was antisocial then. So it’s weird that all the blame falls on me. I have always thought about harming others and if someone had asked me, I would have told them. But no one did and then on Valentine’s Day I acted. 

So what. I don’t feel remorse. Why should I? Because people died. People die all the time. I just helped a few along and since being in prison, I have learned that God is merciful so when I meet him, I’ll say sorry and that’ll be that. There are do overs in heaven just not on earth because we let so many fall through the cracks.