Poetic License

Have you ever found yourself staring into the abyss, only to find that the abyss is actually staring into you? Have you ever felt the sudden recognition of pure evil, in an instant, that sends a literal chill down your spine? Those of us who have ever worked in a prison system have. Thankfully my time there was short – just a few months – but of all the inmates I encountered, one stuck with me. I’ve never known that inmate’s name, and really don’t want to know it, but I recognized that look in Bryan Kohberger’s eyes.

It has been said that the average person can unknowingly walk past 36 murderers in their lifetime.

This week, Kohberger had to face the mocking and sheer anger of the families of his victims in court, and then he was sentenced to four consecutive life sentences, plus 10 years, with no possibility of parole. He was sent to Idaho’s maximum security prison just south of Boise, where he will live for the rest of his days (unless they move him to another maximum security prison, which isn’t likely). Some talking heads (ahem, Megyn Kelly) don’t understand the word consecutive. It means he will serve those sentences one after the other, meaning he will never have any hope of getting out. He is the epitome of evil in this world, and if he isn’t going to face the firing squad, at least he will never be a threat to society again.

The things he did to those poor college kids. It is unspeakable. I’ve listened to the pre-trial motions, the back and forth over the last two and a half years, and finally, the unexpected guilty plea. He finally knew his gig was up. They had him, and nothing his attorney did could change that. Running out of time, with a date set for jury selection, and a date set for the trial to begin, he finally took a plea deal. No firing squad, but no hope of ever wearing civilian clothes or being a free man again. He saved his parents from having to take the witness stand and be raked over the coals about what they did or did not know. I’ve heard that his father, when running into a friend in a grocery store sometime after Bryan’s arrest, said, “You know he didn’t do this, right?”

Honestly, I am as heartbroken for his family as I am for the families of his victims. They clearly are decent, hardworking people who didn’t set out to raise a serial killer. Yes, I’m sure they knew he was different. I know they helped him get through a weight problem and a drug problem, but how could they have known he would someday grow up to kill four young people on the cusp of their lives? We as a society are so quick to assign blame to the parents. We’re always looking for a simple answer to an incredibly complex problem, but I tell you there is no simple answer! Sometimes Paul and I ashamedly say to each other, “That could have been our daughter.” Because you just don’t know what your child will grow up to do. In our case, Stephanie turned the violence on herself. In the Kohbergers’ case, their odd son turned the violence on others.

Some might scoff or shake their heads at my statement above, but it’s the truth. We do our level best to raise good kids. When they are lost in their minds, troubled, addicted, or just different, we do everything we can to help them. Of course I’m not talking about people who have abused their kids who then turn out to be abusive themselves. I’m talking about the troubled child. It could happen to any of us.

It could happen to you.

When Kohberger accepted his sentence, he could have spoken up. He could have said how sorry he was that he murdered these kids in this heinous way, stabbing Xana Kernodle over 50 times as she fought for her life, destroying Kaylee’s face so that she was unrecognizable, punching and stabbing her over and over. While the families unleashed on him, he could have cried or looked remorseful. But instead, he fixed his unblinking, angry, bug-eyed stare on each person who spoke, and then on the judge. I’ve listened to YouTuber experts who have analyzed his body language, but there isn’t much to analyze. He’s stiff and narcissistic. He’s a monster. He is a predator. He is evil.

Just like the man I encountered in the Lima Forensic Hospital in Ohio, where I was working on a temporary assignment as a clerk. For the record, a forensic hospital is where the mentally ill criminals go, specifically criminals who

• Have been found not guilty by reason of insanity
• Are awaiting trial for crimes related to mental illness
• Have been sentenced to psychiatric treatment as part of their punishment 

According to my fellow employees, though, it’s where the really sick or crazy murderers were sent.

They warned me that if I went to the canteen to get lunch, I had to go through the security doors and down a hallway, past inmates, to get there. I had to make sure my badge was on my person and visible at all times, and if I lost my badge somehow, it would take time for someone to prove I was who I said I was so that I could be released. And of course, they would have to lock down the premises while they tried to determine where my badge had gone, lest someone try to escape.

One day I decided to grab lunch in the canteen anyway. I put money in my front pocket, leaving my purse and valuables at my desk, locked up. I went through the security doors, was scanned for metal objects, and was escorted along my path until I went through the final door. It led to an open area that was blindingly white, surrounded by cells with metal doors that had small slots in them for passing through a tray or visualizing the inmate. A guard was escorting an inmate in my direction, toward one of the cells.

The man was in an orange jumpsuit and had orange slippers on his feet. His hands and feet were shackled and linked to a light brown leather band around his waist. The guard had him by the arm, directing him. The inmate had shaggy, longer black hair and a black beard. As they approached, I moved aside. In my infinite need to be polite – at least at that time, in my twenties – I nodded to him and smiled slightly. That is when he locked eyes with me, and I felt the lightning bolt shoot through me. In that moment, I could feel the things he would do to me if he were able to do them. My breath caught, and I dropped my smile while his spread across his face. His coal black eyes pierced my soul.

The guard caught him looking at me and jerked him to the side, hurrying him into the cell. I felt the trembling spread through my body. Looking around me, I didn’t see any other inmate who even seemed to notice me. I hurried to the canteen to get some fruit and yogurt, clutching my badge protectively, and then I went back through security to my desk.

I wasn’t sorry when that job was over. I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to spend any time in a prison job again, and I never have.

I can understand why Dylan Mortensen was in a “frozen shock phase” after she locked eyes with Kohberger in her home on King Rd., just after he had slaughtered her roommates. The only reason I believe she was left alive is that either he was too exhausted from the fights with Kaylee and Xana to take on anyone else, or he was so focused on getting out of there that he didn’t register her face in the darkness. Either way, I’m so glad that her eyewitness account allowed her to identify him so clearly, stating that he had a big nose and bushy eyebrows, that he was dressed all in black with a mask over his face. I felt that same deer in the headlights sensation when I encountered my own version of Kohberger, with that thousand yard stare slamming into me. Thankfully I wasn’t a young woman defenseless in a off-campus house in the wee hours of the morning. I’m glad that Dylan Mortensen and Bethany Funke were left alive, and that Kohberger was stupid enough to leave a knife sheath behind with his DNA on the snap.

Who knows what will happen to him in prison. Jeffrey Dahmer didn’t last long in prison. He was bludgeoned to death by another inmate, who was schizophrenic, two years into his life sentence. A phenomenon known as “prison justice” could be meted out on Kohberger.

I can’t imagine the horror his parents felt when he finally pleaded guilty, though he never actually produced a confession. He did say yes when asked, “Are you pleading guilty because you are guilty?”

The parents my heart aches for the most, though, are the parents of Ethan Chapin, Xana Kernodle, Kaylee Gonçalves, and Maddie Mogen. Although I suffer because I was never able to say goodbye to my daughter and because of the terrible way she died alone, at least I did not have to suffer the knowledge that she had to fight for her life against a knife-wielding murderer. I wish these parents some measure of peace, as much as that is possible, in knowing that their tireless pursuit of justice resulted in this madman being locked up for the rest of his life. I hope the souls of those lost will be at peace now. Rest.

Please be aware of your surroundings as you go through your days. Sometimes bad things happen anyway, but beware of the abyss staring into your soul.

Namaste,
Jude