Well, that’s obvious, isn’t it? I don’t understand a single thing about this tragedy. Who could? To hear that my boys may have died because their wife/mother allegedly wanted to recapture her lost youth and run off into the sunset with someone she knew in high school is difficult to swallow. The affair doesn’t surprise me, but thinking it’s better to kill your family than leave them is one of the coldest things I have ever imagined. Especially if, as the prosecution suggested, she went out partying afterwards. How would you manage to appear happy and carefree if you had smothered your own children, and make plans to go skydiving? I can’t wrap my brain around that.
And then, there’s this conundrum. Say you planned to murder your spouse and make it look like a suicide. You went to the trouble of telling everyone for weeks that you kept dreaming that he killed the kids and then himself. You smother your two children to give a motive for great remorse and then type up a very bad suicide note. The first wound pierces the heart and is fatal. Why pursue your victim as he drags himself along the floor and keep stabbing and slashing? Suicide is self-murder. Self inflicted. You can’t really stab yourself repeatedly in the back, especially when your hands and fingers have been severed. Now I know why the funeral home asked us to buy Neal a long sleeved shirt and why they put white cotton gloves on his hands – or rather, what was left of them. I feel sick.