Closing Arguments

Today and tomorrow, my girlfriend and I will be in Santa Cruz to hear the closing arguments in the trial concerning the murder of her mom. I mentioned in a post last December that she had just gone missing. I haven’t really known how to talk about what it felt like to hear in January that her body had been found. Or what it’s been like since as we learn more and more what happened. I’ve been at a complete loss for words about the whole thing. If I think about it for too long, I fall apart. There were warning signs that seem obvious to me now and I feel like an idiot who has failed someone in a cosmically profound way.

But none of this is about me—whatever I’ve been going through, my wonderful incredible deserves-so-much-better-than-this partner has been suffering 10 times as much. I can’t really understand how she’s been able to find the strength to keep going and not break down entirely like I know I would in her situation. But she has and I am so… I don’t know, “proud of her” seems strange to say when she shouldn’t have to be going through any of this. She’s remarkable. Her mom was remarkable. The murderer wishes he was a quarter as remarkable. I hated him before and I am going to have an extremely hard time looking at the back of his stupid fucking head the next two days. I want to go back in time can change everything. Like I said, the next two days are not about me. And it’s not about that man. I’m not even sure it’s about justice. Justice would be bringing her back. Justice would be none of this happening. Sorry if this is all disjointed—I just woke up to puke out some of the emotions and also my dinner and I’m just typing out the words that have come up with it.

I haven’t gone to court to observe any part of the trial. Mostly on account of I almost died in that car crash and have been stuck in bed, but I think I probably could’ve gone to the last handful of court dates. But, ah, fuck. They played the unedited recording she made of the argument that led up to her torture. I am not strong enough for this. I couldn’t get through half of an article about it. It hurts my heart, like physically, it hurts to just think about. I want to direct the pain radiating throughout my chest and amplify it somehow and send it to that heartless bastard. I hope I figure out how to do some Scanners shit at some point in this long night so I can test it out on him. I wish I’d punched him in the nose that day 3 years ago when he drank my entire bottle of expensive Japanese whiskey and got scarily belligerent when I didn’t want to “jam” with him and his dipshit saxophone. What a stupid fucking asshole. H

Okay, I just deleted about 2 whole paragraphs of increasing rage. That’ll be my one edit for this post.

I can’t let the anger be what drives me. I don’t want to be like him. This year has been a test (how else do you explain all this?) and I am determined to pass with a B+ at the very least. I have to focus on love. It will get better. It will become tolerable and then it will become okay and then everything will be fine. I have to believe this. I love you.

Nicky Flowers - 10/08/24 - I'm serious, I love you. Now go tell someone you love them. (send any comments/questions to hello at nickyflowers dot com)