Last week I took another confession on a child molester. He had molested this little boy three years ago but the case had been dismissed due to proof issues. So the boy’s mother lets the guy move back in with her a couple of months later. You can guess what happened next.
I got a confession on the new one and the old one, too, so now he’s going to go for both of them, a long time gone.
A buddy of mine, guy I used to work murders with when I was at the S.O. had a stroke last week. He’s in ICU still, can’t talk, half paralyzed, the whole enchilada. He’s forty-eight.
I’ve been by three times, but they won’t let me see him.
I’d just like to hold his hand for a minute.
He’s not a bad guy.
I feel out of sorts in a deep way.
All my gears are slipping.