TRIGGER WARNING: This blog has sensitive content. If you are easily triggered by suicide, rape, and murder, then please do NOT read this blog!
There once was a man who was a detective. This man lived on a hill that overlooked the city he was in charge of. This detective was morally upright in all his conduct and his ways. As a matter of fact, some would refer to him as the Incorruptible Man. The Detective despised the city he overlooked. He seen all the blatant immorality all throughout the city and it sorely distressed him. He hated the people in the city so much that he referred to the city as The Valley of Incompetent Morons. One day, he received a call about a murder in the downtown area. As he approached the scene of the crime, The Detective noticed gun laying on the ground. "These idiots leaving evidence out in the open," He muttered under his breath. He picked up the gun, thinking this was going to be an open and shut case once he examined it. When he did examine the gun, he noticed that the fingerprints on it were his fingerprints! This perplexed The Detective, but he disregarded the thought and decided to further investigate. Later in the week, he received another call about a slew of murders that took place at a local bank. He immediately drove straight to that bank. "When will these ignoramuses finally understand that crime doesn't pay?" The Detective thought to himself. When he arrived at the bank, he was bothered by the fact that no one was willing to speak to him. They were literally afraid of him. This caused The Detective to get increasingly more angry. "What's wrong with you people?!" He yelled at the top of his lungs at everyone in the bank, but they just continued to stare at him. No one said a word, much to the chagrin of The Detective. He immediately stormed out of the Bank vowing to never return again. After all, all of his finances were stored in an offshore bank account anyway so he did not need the local bank. Later that night, he was still fuming about the reactions of everyone at the bank and it just grated his nerves the more he thought about it. His disturbance made him so angry that he even kicked his own dog in the side, which caused the dog to fly into the wall and start whimpering. He did not care. This was not the first time he had kicked his dog either. He finally was able to fall asleep later that night around 1:00 in the morning only to be woken up by a call at around 3:35 in the morning.
"Detective Spooner?" The dispatcher said as soon as he answered.
"What is it now, Becky?" The Detective angrily responded. The Dispatcher did not allow his tone of voice to rattle her. She was used to his belligerent attitude by now.
"There has been a rape in Central Park. We need you to go check it out" The dispatcher calmly told him. The Detective slammed the phone down in a fit of rage and muttered a lot of obscenities. He stood up, cracked his back, and proceeded to change into his detective outfit. His dog looked up at him, but then put his head back down when he yelled at it. He drove the mile and a half it took to get to Central Park and when he arrived at the crime scene, he seen the battered and bruised woman wrapped in a blanket. After dismissing the EMT, he approached the woman, but she immediately yelled for help. The Detective could not understand why she was so frightened by him. "Ma'am, I am only here to---"
The woman cut him off and kept yelling for the EMT's to come back immediately. This angered The Detective and began uttering obscenities at her and told her she can deal with whatever happened on her own. Then, he went back to his police car, and drove back home. After changing out of his detective outfit, he got back in bed and drifted off to sleep rather quickly. He slept until around 10:00 am and was woken up by another call. This time the number was private, but he knew it was someone from the police station.
"Detective Spooner?" The gruff man on the other end asked him as soon as he answered. The Detective angrily said that it was him.
"Sir, we are going to need you to come down to the station immediately for questioning" These words caught The Detective off guard. He could not believe what he heard. Why did they need to question him? Was he a suspect? For what?
"Sir?" The officer said after a long moment of silence. The Detective hung up the phone. He began pacing his bedroom while puffing on a cigarette. He could not believe that he was a suspect for some crime. He began to assess everything that has been going on for the past week or so. Something did not add up. The fingerprints on the unidentified gun, the reactions of the people at the bank, the reaction of the woman at the park. Why was everyone frightened by him? He has been a decorated detective for over 50 years and never once has he ever broken a single law. This was a fact he has always prided himself with. This fact caused him to believe that he was morally superior than everyone in The Valley of Incompetent Morons. As he was pacing his room, his started to drift towards his bedroom mirror. As soon as he locked eyes with his own reflection, everything finally dawned on him. He hated the people he was in authority over. He literally loathed them. Over 50 years of being a detective has caused him to despise the very human beings he took an oath to protect and serve. This hatred caused him to enact his own version of retributive justice on the City of Incompetent Morons. He realized that he himself was the serial murderer and rapist!
"I cannot believe what I have done...." The Detective silently said to himself, "I am a detective who took and oath to protect and serve these people. Well, justice must be done because the wages of sin is death" Then, he reached into his drawer and pulled out his 9mm gun and stared at himself one last time in the mirror. He aimed the gun at his head and pulled the trigger.....
-David Lee Chu Sarchet
Christian Mental Health Advocate
For 24 hour peer support, please call the Christ-Centered Mental Health ministry line at 567-343-3727 or email me at christmentalhealth@gmail.com
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