The Death Penalty~ We were spared.

My littlest one comes to my Administrative Justice class with me, as some of you know. Tonight, the class was to view a documentary on the execution of the death penalty. The Professor said that I could leave so that Shanathan would not view it. I thought how wonderful that was we could leave for such purpose, AND, as an extra bonus, without penalization in my grade. But, between you and me, even if my little mate wasn*t there, I*D have to walk out! This I know because of what happened to me last year when I accidently came across 3 pictures of a man being executed in the electric chair, as I was studying the JonBenet Ramsey case at my old campus. Those images seemed to appear out of nowhere. Strange because they weren*t even connected to the case. I had some bad repurcussion from them. Nearly flew out of my chair, as though being shocked, as that last image of the trilogy appeared. It was as if electricity flew right out of the monitor into me, pushing
me back. And I had a witness to that! But, I digress. Armed with the knowledge of that experience, this time I figured I*d stay a few to learn until the viewing got rough. You know, before anything graphic was shown. The lights went out. The documentary was clicked on. Only, it started somewhere other than where it should have, the beginning. Of course the Professor tried to shut it down and restart it, but for the purpose of showing it to the students from the beginning to end. I recall, at one split second, seeing what appeared to be a door with a steering wheel from a ship on it. Something you might see on a submarine. Something air tight. What I recall next was viewing a hall for a second, then a door slowly opening, then IT. The death bed with all of those belts. And that was all before the teacher ever so quicky turned it off. It was as though it all hit the eyes swiftly, each image magicly darting at my brain through my eyes like subliminal
messages, imminating straight from Hell. Fortunately, Shanathan was busy playing video games on my cell, since the lights were off, only the lights from those horrid subliminal like visions were on, so he couldn*t see his homework. I quickly gathered him up, along with my purse, foresaking all else, figuring I could come back later for our jackets, his homework, and our near sacred Obama and family water bottle. I mean, surely we would have been able to get back in without a hitch later. But, no deal. After we went for a quick walk down the corridor, and a fun ride up and down the elevator, down and up, actually, we decided to head down back towards class. I thought the rough part would be over. You see, just before I scooted the two of us out the back door, I heard words that went something like, you are about to listen to audio of an actual execution. I had thought, "That*s all brother!", and high tailed it out of there. Well, as Shanathan
and I, shortly later, headed back towards the front door to the chamber, I mean, classroom, the Professor just so happened to step out, phone, some sort of list, and pen in hand. I said, "Wow!" and quickly recapped those startling words I heard that pierced my spirit from the huge screen*s audio. He told us it*s o.k. for us to go. I asked, in a near statement, that surely it was going to die down, the rough part. Excuse the accidental pun. He replied, a bit wide eyed, oh, that*s his normal look, "... Um, it*s gonna b". I finished his sentence for him, "be like that all the way through!?" He responded, "Pretty much." I don*t even think I said good bye. We just glided down the hall, Shanathan and I, down the elevator shaft, and down another hall, straight into the relaxing fireside room, where I am composing myself. At one point, and at which timeframe it occurred, I can*t remember,I had told Shanathan to stand on
the other side of the hall, about 5 feet away from the back door, because you could hear the documentary from outside the door. I said, "Stand right here, Mommy will be out in 15 seconds. I have to go in and get our things." In those 15 seconds, I heard a man in an orange jumpsuit state he*d rather die than state he did something, confess, to an act he did not do. I guestimated he could do that for a lesser charge, and an equally less potent punishment. I don*t know. I jolted back to my kid. Well, class is over now. It*s been over, actually. Shanathan is peacefully sleeping. Please excuse any mispellings in this post, for at this moment, I*m not concerned with manual editing. Quite frankly, my dear, I don*t give a damn! I think I will never be one to stomach that sort of thing, or heart it, for that matter. Perhaps a career in LE, law enforcement, is not for me after all. Good night all. *SDRoads