Two innocent boys
Well, I'm a-thinkin' and a-thinkin', till there's nothin' I ain't thunk.
Breathing in the stink, till finally I stunk.
It was at that time, I swear I lost my mind.
I started making plans to kill my own kind.
- "Country Death Song" by the Violent Femmes
For those of you not familiar with the Josh Powell case, he was a Utah dad and husband whose wife suspiciously disappeared in 2009. Police suspected him of murdering her but never had enough evidence to arrest him. He lost custody of his kids after police found naughty photos on his father's computer. Powell, now living in Washington was allowed supervised visits with his sons, and on Sunday, the social worker brought the boys over to his house, where he pulled them in, locked the front door on the social worker, and ignited the house. To the horror of the social worker, the house was engulfed in flames quickly, killing Josh Powell and his sons.
When I heard this news yesterday, I wanted to throw up. With more news emerging from this tragedy, it sounds like the case against Powell was getting stronger. But then why kill your sons, too? This is the part many people, myself included, can't fathom.
Did Powell simply not want his in-laws to retain custody of the boys, thus the murder-suicide? Was his plan in 2009 was a whole-family murder-suicide and he just didn't have the guts then do the job beyond his wife? Was he upset with his sons, who reportedly were starting to offer details on the morning their mother went missing? Was he a selfish coward? Was he just unstable?
I can't help but believe it was a combination of more than one of these things. He must have been unstable to do this. At some point, killing his sons along with him became a good idea. That's either evil or mentally deranged. Or both. He doesn't deserve excuses. At some point while he lined his house with an accelerant, he must have realized he would be killing his sons rather soon. Killing his wife is one thing -- horrific, surely, but explainable. Killing your children is another. At some point, dead children was preferable to letting them live with someone else. That, even for a mentally unstable person, is unfathomable.
Gather 'round, boys, to the tale that I tell.
You wanna know how to take a short trip to hell?
It's guaranteed to get your own place in hell.
- "Country Death Song" by the Violent Femmes
Before Sunday, a little part of me wanted to believe that Josh Powell didn't kill his wife, that no father would be so despicable to take their mother away from her sons. After yesterday, no one doubts he killed his wife. Then, he killed his sons. I'm sure the boys suffered in that fire, but I hope their last dying thoughts weren't "Daddy did this to me." I hope that Josh Powell somehow started that fire without them knowing and died with the last (maybe only) shred of love he had left for them, hugging them, making them feel safe (even while they killed them). Somehow, I doubt that happened, and this is what makes me want to puke: Those boys died knowing their father killed them.
I worked last night laying out the sports section. The night was busy for us because of the Super Bowl, but also for the rest of the newsroom because of this tragedy. Reporters and editors came in to the office to report the story. For a Super Bowl shift, I surprisingly didn't watch as much of the game as I would. Part of it was just being busy (we didn't get much help with the section), and part of it was it just seemed almost trivial. I got home from work and was drained, from the busy push to get the sports section out and the tragic events of the day. I kissed my boys, about the same ages as the deceased Powell boys, goodnight and went to bed, trying not to think about the previous 12 hours, or the evil people do.
UPDATE: If I wasn't physically ill about all this before, the news that Josh Powell's sons' bodies were found with hatchet wounds to the head and neck may be the most disturbing thing I've ever read. My wondering about what the boys thought as the flames were spreading around them is moot. Their last thoughts likely were that their daddy was swinging an axe at them. Horrendous.
I'm going to hug my son now.
Breathing in the stink, till finally I stunk.
It was at that time, I swear I lost my mind.
I started making plans to kill my own kind.
- "Country Death Song" by the Violent Femmes
For those of you not familiar with the Josh Powell case, he was a Utah dad and husband whose wife suspiciously disappeared in 2009. Police suspected him of murdering her but never had enough evidence to arrest him. He lost custody of his kids after police found naughty photos on his father's computer. Powell, now living in Washington was allowed supervised visits with his sons, and on Sunday, the social worker brought the boys over to his house, where he pulled them in, locked the front door on the social worker, and ignited the house. To the horror of the social worker, the house was engulfed in flames quickly, killing Josh Powell and his sons.
When I heard this news yesterday, I wanted to throw up. With more news emerging from this tragedy, it sounds like the case against Powell was getting stronger. But then why kill your sons, too? This is the part many people, myself included, can't fathom.
Did Powell simply not want his in-laws to retain custody of the boys, thus the murder-suicide? Was his plan in 2009 was a whole-family murder-suicide and he just didn't have the guts then do the job beyond his wife? Was he upset with his sons, who reportedly were starting to offer details on the morning their mother went missing? Was he a selfish coward? Was he just unstable?
I can't help but believe it was a combination of more than one of these things. He must have been unstable to do this. At some point, killing his sons along with him became a good idea. That's either evil or mentally deranged. Or both. He doesn't deserve excuses. At some point while he lined his house with an accelerant, he must have realized he would be killing his sons rather soon. Killing his wife is one thing -- horrific, surely, but explainable. Killing your children is another. At some point, dead children was preferable to letting them live with someone else. That, even for a mentally unstable person, is unfathomable.
Gather 'round, boys, to the tale that I tell.
You wanna know how to take a short trip to hell?
It's guaranteed to get your own place in hell.
- "Country Death Song" by the Violent Femmes
Before Sunday, a little part of me wanted to believe that Josh Powell didn't kill his wife, that no father would be so despicable to take their mother away from her sons. After yesterday, no one doubts he killed his wife. Then, he killed his sons. I'm sure the boys suffered in that fire, but I hope their last dying thoughts weren't "Daddy did this to me." I hope that Josh Powell somehow started that fire without them knowing and died with the last (maybe only) shred of love he had left for them, hugging them, making them feel safe (even while they killed them). Somehow, I doubt that happened, and this is what makes me want to puke: Those boys died knowing their father killed them.
I worked last night laying out the sports section. The night was busy for us because of the Super Bowl, but also for the rest of the newsroom because of this tragedy. Reporters and editors came in to the office to report the story. For a Super Bowl shift, I surprisingly didn't watch as much of the game as I would. Part of it was just being busy (we didn't get much help with the section), and part of it was it just seemed almost trivial. I got home from work and was drained, from the busy push to get the sports section out and the tragic events of the day. I kissed my boys, about the same ages as the deceased Powell boys, goodnight and went to bed, trying not to think about the previous 12 hours, or the evil people do.
UPDATE: If I wasn't physically ill about all this before, the news that Josh Powell's sons' bodies were found with hatchet wounds to the head and neck may be the most disturbing thing I've ever read. My wondering about what the boys thought as the flames were spreading around them is moot. Their last thoughts likely were that their daddy was swinging an axe at them. Horrendous.
I'm going to hug my son now.
Comments
Beautifully written, my friend.