Murder and Suicide, the View from Here

Interview: Part 1: Introduction

Interview with M., a 22 year old man whose father committed a murder then killed himself. His father, “John” shot to death his wifes’ lover, then himself. This took place when M. was 14 years old, just before entering his first year of high school.

I have known this family for almost fifteen years and never saw this coming, all families and couples have problems and I knew that they were dealing with their fair share but did not expect this. Looking back I suppose that is why I felt the need to take him into my home, he was after all my sons’ best friend. There were many mornings I would wake up and see M. on my couch, curled up in the throw blankets and pillows.  I had started keeping them there just “in case” a few months before.  I never said anything to him, just made breakfast and acted like it was a normal day. Sadly, it was becoming so normal that I began buying the bigger packs of chicken for dinner, doing his laundry at times and including him in our family vacations.  I think that he appreciated me not talking about it or asking questions. I let him know that I was there if he needed me without prying or asking “how are you doing” every 5 minutes, or giving him those sad little looks that people give. There were times when we were driving to school or just hanging at the house that he would open up and talk about what was bothering him or how hurt and alone he felt. It would totally break me down on the inside, my heart hurt for him. I did my best just to listen and let him know he was being heard.

Today, he is a healthy young man, has a good job and dating a very lovely girl. It did however take him many years to get here. I know he is a man now but I still see him as that beautiful and kind little boy I met when he was just seven years old, jumping my fence, tousled blonde hair, dirty face and torn jeans. Always ready for trouble, as most boys are.

I began this interview in my home, it was just the two of us there, I had made coffee and apple cake for him, his favorite. I made sure that no one else was home to interrupt us and to give him the freedom and privacy to talk about whatever he wanted. I assured him that I would not give specific details and that I would not even tell my son that he was meeting with me. I wasn’t sure at the time why he wanted to keep that from him, but I had made my promise.

M. arrived about eleven, he is six foot one now, tall and handsome. “Hi Momma” he says and immediately gives me a hug. Most people just hug as a kind of obligation, M.s’ hugs are personal, more of an embrace than a hug. The kind of hug that makes you give that deep sigh. You have just let go of something you didn’t even know you were carrying with you and suddenly feel lighter.

We settled in the living room, coffee, cake and just the hint of 94.7 in the background. We went over all the regular chat, what’s new, how is A.L. doing? What is your sister up to these days? I answered his questions about my family and we talked about my return to school and how I felt out of place sometimes with these “kids”. Always the ambassador, he reassured me and said he was proud of me. 

He sat opposite me on the chase. My dog, Buster had his head in his lap appreciating the attention as M. absent mindedly stroked his ears. He said that he remembered getting into trouble and the sentences I had made him write. One hundred times, “I will not start a fire in the shed”, “I will not spray paint the wall”, I will not….think of something and put it here, they probably did it. We laughed. He has a beautiful smile. I can still see the sadness in his eyes though. Most people probably don’t see it or if they do they don’t really know what it is they are seeing. Unless you really look at another human being, really see them, you will never know the hurt and the beauty that they carry with them.

He started talking about all the times that I had disciplined him and how he felt at the time that I was “a ….. “ He looked up at me. “a bitch?” I finished. “a little bit mean”, he said. I just listened. He then said that now he appreciated it because it made him feel “more normal”. He wasn’t the kid that had this dad that had done this horrible thing and we should all take pity on him. He was just M. a kid that had done something wrong and was being called out on it and held responsible, “just like all the other kids”.

Part two will be in next weeks’ blog.

-Sally Hamilton