Hi, Bekah. I didn’t come here. In chats and emails I circled the truth in order to share my heartbreak without giving it up. While talking to my cousin I realized that what they did with their little spin session was make me a party to your injustice.

That sucks mega.

But then I’m more or less alone here, at least as far as I know after talking to your stepmother and John. Andy did not give me his opinion. I think actually he said he was not going to have an opinion. So I said but how do you FEEL about it! and he laughed at me.

Me, your crazy mother…I think I should be sure I did my best for you. But there were things I thought to do and did not. Mainly contacting the media – maybe if I had kept in touch with the media the case would be too famous for the DA to do what he did.

Will I ever know what goes on behind closed doors? Who is this Officer Spin anyway?

All I really want to do at this point is find out from Detective P and the DA that she will go away. Otherwise it is no fucking good girl. As it is it will not be nearly enough. amen

I love you. Let us test Chopra at this dawn:

I have changed so much via my experience. All is an experience.

But just to illustrate really well how bullshit that statement is, let Mr. Chopra for a moment ruminate on whether you were changed by the experience of being run over by a speeding 1999 Infiniti on July 19, 2001.

Yeah. What a fucking moronic that "inspiration" is.

Bekah. I am shredded by the turn of events in our lives since July 19. Who am I, what am I, what matters, and have I any power to change anything?

I am nearly hopeless Bekah, and it is a feeling I hate to feel very much. Hopeless asks why as if an answer will be forthcoming; Hopeless is so low tears can’t reach it. Hopeless thinks that the popular definitions of "life" and "death" are transposed. Hopeless wants to live, but has lost her sense of direction and fears that she will not recover it in time to find her way back to life.

Hopeless has failed her daughter and thrown bones to injustice. Meaty bones.

How do I turn away from this? No, I cannot do happy as I do confident and grown up. I mean I DO do happy just that way often as it is. It does not work with happy.

She’ll get four years for felony manslaughter with gross negligence while intoxicated. That’s the deal. She has agreed to plead for four years in state prison and we are assured that if the case goes to trial the outcome will not be as favorable.

But your old logical mom thinks that must be bullshit. If her lawyer didn’t think he would lose the murder trial he would not let her plead to the next worse crime. Deals can only be struck when one side offers the other side grasps.

I do hope the DA will call me back today…I really think he should. Does my comment sound as threatening as it would if you heard my tone of voice say it out loud?

Because darling daughter these are things I need to know…

1. Will she go to prison?

That’s mostly what I need to know. Other than that I want to let him know that although I cannot be happy with an outcome that includes no confession for or conviction of murder, I don’t want him to think that my unhappiness reflects a dissatisfaction with his efforts. I will lie a little bit right here – because he could have done more, but still. The police fucked your case up with a sloppy police report and that is not his fault.

Also I don’t know that this outcome fairly reflects his choice as to how to adjudicate this case. So I will give him the benefit of the doubt and operate on the assumption that his superior instructed him to get this over this way. It’s a large leap but an important one, I believe.

Then I will assure him that my confidence that he can win at trial if she changes her mind is quite high.

I hope he’ll let me have my say without cutting in to play that damn tape over and over. The tape is the one we sat in that room and listened to over and over and over on Wednesday. There is no Bekah mentioned, no body in the road, nothing.

I was forced to bring you up that day, over and over.

I feel for the policemen and policewomen who go to such lengths to make a case only to see it bleached to a fade by fancy lawyer tricks. I really want to talk to Detective Pedroza! Like right now…where the fuck did I hide his pager number?

So, baby, it hit me hard, kinda like your death. And now you be both dead and unavenged, sweet angel. I am sorry Bekah. Forgive your mom? Love me. What good am I?

I think this is what it is: my therapist said I would be racked with guilt and I disputed that. Yet here I am, racked with guilt. I just saved it for the outcome of the case against your murderer. Everyone and their brother knows that the victim’s mother does not try the case against a murderer. But I took it on anyway if only in my mind. And baby I tried to win it for you. I tried so hard….

Yeah, it’s bitter. I should not feel guilty and have not a clue about how long I will. Justice was the very last thing I could do for my precious girl, and I couldn’t do it.

There’s the statement…but now I am diminished and have no command of the language. There is nothing I can say that hasn’t been said before and better. And will the judge listen? Who knows?

Memo: call my MADDwoman and see if she knows the judge in that department. Ask her too if the sentence is certain or nearly certain.

Call my civil attorneys. They’ll just tell me it’s good and I should be happy. I know they will. Your stepmother actually said the outcome of all on this side doesn’t matter to you. I don’t believe it. If we matter to you it does. And it also matters because YOU matter – to be more precise you did until she murdered you.

Bekah it is not fair; it is wrong; it is like you got killed all over again in too many ways. When you were killed on 7/19 I could not claim any guilt because I was nowhere around when it happened.

When you were killed yesterday I was sitting in the room.

Save my daughter, save her! I kept returning to the body flying into the killer’s face. Kept holding up the corpse lying in a huge pool of blood, a football field away from her shoes. Reminded the participants of a crime scene so horrible it was reflected in the witnesses’ eyes and the detective’s voice. I paraded your age, defended your lifestyle, broke down and cried saying, "She’s going to get away with murder," and their fat spin doctor policeman kept drawling on and on about what a great deal it was. Like I never said it. Like you never lived. Like it’s okay that you’re dead.

They live it all the time. Right and wrong is sometimes a blurry thing. Not in this case Bekah. the DA never said one fucking thing to me that convinced me he would lose the trial. And I never got you out of the ground, which is apparently what I would have to do to get anyone to recall what this whole motherfucking bullshit nightmare HELL is about.

I want to scream and fall down now baby. They don’t want me to talk to anybody. For one thing these horrible thoughts and feelings might be validated? Of course they only said if it gets out it will be blown. But did they know that I might want it to be blown? It is not justice. It is not enough for your life and her crime.

Yesterday a con man "swindler" pled guilty and was sentenced on the spot for bilking a woman out of a lot of money. Mind you that woman is still alive.

He got four years.

You were struck and dragged by her car. Murdered yes Bek I know you were murdered. Probably I only kidded myself that I had any influence on effecting your justice. But I kidded myself pretty good, that seems obvious…I am crushed, destroyed, anguished, devastated.

I let Rambo get away with murdering my daughter.

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