In the World of Karma

He pleaded his case- the wedding ring of his murdered wife he wished had gone to his daughter, snapshots of what gave his life meaning to his son. These things that were HIS. “My things, I had every right to take back," he said.

He didn’t mean to hurt anyone, he was sorry.

In the desert town of “ya win some ya lose some,” his number was finally up. His gun tootin, unmasked posse just trying to retrieve his belongings, heard their sentence.

Had the judge allowed him more air time, we might have heard more about his sorrow. What he was really sorry about we didn’t hear.

This icon of self-aggrandizement, a world unto his own he made, ruled, and when questioned, could not bear the loss of his identity, so he cut them down in the walkway of a condo.

I thought I might feel jubilant, having worked on the case 13 years ago. My target, the killer of Ron Goldman and Nicole Simpson. My subconscious led me to pinpoint on a map Rockingham. I was simply saddened by all the loss; no luster in prosecuting the perpetrator.

What could be the lesson in this loss?

I believe Nicole and Ron were sacrificial lambs to raise the consciousness about domestic violence. The disaster of his first trial cast light on every crime lab in collecting and preserving evidence. Mistakes of that public magnitude would never again be tolerated and the illusion that Orenthal James Simpson might come by for dinner, disappeared in the female African-American community.

Had the chickens come home to roost in Vegas or was this the projected path of a narcissist?

The day he was sentenced, I was tormented about another case I was working on, when a book high on my shelf fell and snapped me out of my thoughts. A Course in Miracles opened to lesson 46 : God is the Love in which I Forgive.

It was the clap of a book to the floor that reminded me, only God knows the statue of limitations in the world of Karma.