Guy's Behavior

Confessions and Revelations of a Caged Man

I'm going to tell you a story. "Here's a story, about a man named Brady, who was busy with three boys of his own..." Just kidding.

"Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip, that started at this tropic port, aboard this tiny ship..." Just kidding.

"You unlock this door with a key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension. A dimension of sound. A dimension of sight. A dimension of mind. You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You've just crossed over into The Twilight Zone." Okay, also not this. But this is the closest of the three.

The thing is, my story is real. I am going to omit some specifics to protect the guilty, but everything I'm about to say is real. It's not a fairytale, it's not a fantasy. Is it a cautionary tale? You could call it that. But it's not like if you're ever in this situation you'll necessarily think about this, what I've written, and suddenly get rational, and it will save you. Well, it's possible. Yesterday a guy on GAG told me "You might have saved me." But that's another story.

If you were ever in this situation, It would tear through your life like a Tazmanian Devil (and I mean the real beast, not the comical cartoon version.) Or a hurricane. Is that the one with water?

[School's in session: Tornadoes form over land, while hurricanes form over water. Tornado winds can move as fast as 300 mph, while hurricane wind speeds are less than 180 mph. Tornadoes are quick to the punch and last less than an hour, while hurricanes drag on.]

I'm going to tell you about what happens - the worst possible outcome - when a man feels trapped. Really, really trapped. And trust me, you do not want to be this man. Or the woman who gets caught in the eye of his storm.

I'm going to give you with the punchline now. It's about... what do they call it when a bunch of crows gets together, and causes havoc? Yeah, that word.

Have you ever gone to prison to visit someone you knew? I have, two. It's not like I know a lot of criminals, in general, but do I know some people who committed crimes and went to jail for it? Yep.

I talked to him for 3 hrs today. We had a great time. We actually have lots of things in common -how we see the world, what we think is important, what really matters. And that may seem very strange to say about a [crow]erer. Well, at least he was an Attempted [Crow]erer.

I don't want to sensationalize this. I'm not a fiction writer. I write truth, fact. And doing that means there are only so many stories you can tell. You may reveal too much. But I've decided to tell the story, an abbreviated version, because I think some people could benefit from hearing how someone could ever come to the idea of killing someone. I know exactly how this man felt. Not in an 'I relate' kind of way - god, no, but as in, I am close to this man and we have had many hours of very personal conversation about it. I could probably answer most questions you have on how a man could ever come to this place in his life, in his mind.

If you're intrigued, I'll give you another gift. Are you ready... he was a cop. Now you might be like, 'Amanda, stfu! You're just telling me some Hollywood script. Maybe you read it, maybe you wrote it. But you're full of it.' Nope. Maybe I should write about it. My interest in crime dramas is waning, but it's possible I could make some money on this. But I digress.

So let's go back. Follow me, if you will, to a young man, early 20s, who's just beginning his life. He's wondering what to do with it. "I was kind of an asshole." He was trim, fit, looked like Elvis, his muse (Captain Kirk was the other.) He had swagger. He had a lust for ladies, and was good with getting them. "I knew exactly what to tell them, what they wanted to hear. Sometimes I would have to turn my head to stop myself from laughing at the lies." I wouldn't say he had all the advantages, but he also did not not have advantages. He was... charming. Self-serving, self-centred. Ambitious, in some ways. Aptitude? Abilities? Not the smartest tool in the shed. He knew that. He admits that. But pretty good with the 'street smarts.' He's very good socially. Social engineering, I think would be fair to say. The kind of man you should be worried about. Take your classic, stereotypical, generally self-serving womanizer. Why is he a womanizer, what is that, exactly? A man who feels no guilt in acting on his own desires, and essentially believes that women are there for the taking. You just have to know how to do it. It takes some skill, a certain type of skill. But it is not math or physics or chemistry. And this is where I come back to social engineering. Some people just know how to work people, work a crowd, get people on their side. Yep, he's really good at all those things. (In fact, he even performs on stage. He's apparently quite captivating.)

So he's out from under his parents' roof. Didn't go to college. Didn't really excel in school so didn't see the point in pursing it further. What to do, what to do? One day, he saw an ad in the paper. "Do you like justice? Do you feel that something is missing in your life, a sense of purpose? Join the Police Academy. Make a difference." I don't know exactly. But sounds reasonable. Anyway. It seemed to fit. You don't need higher education. You need guts, bravery, balls. For people who are listless, purposeless, 'serving the public' can seem like quite a fine idea. So he put in an application. "I don't know why some people can't get jobs, the job they want. It's so easy." He engineered them. He took a test, a written test. He saw right through it. Like a scene in a movie, where the protagonist suddenly gets tunnel vision, an epiphany, or a sixth sense. It's like he could see exactly the right answer to every question. Morality, ethics, logic, loyalty... check, check, check. Before long, he got the call. "You're hired." And the next phase of his new life began.

They put him through intensive training, but he relished it. Physically, he was very coordinated, good at sports, competitive, a good shot. He did well. The proud day came. He got the badge and gun. Did it justify him, years later, turning on the car siren, speeding through the streets to get home just a little bit earlier, pulling in to the driveway with a treat for the kids? You decide.

He was now uniformed, badged, armed. A trained fighting machine. A killing machine? Open to interpretation. He was ready for this new life, feeling good. A bright future lay ahead. But then, one day, he met a woman. I've asked the question on GAG, 'How Do You Feel About a Man in a Suit/A Uniform?' The ladies did not respond but the men gave interesting responses about how they feel wearing a suit. I have done my own research, and despite my personal opinion that uniforms do very little for me, as far as attraction to the opposite sex goes (I think it's because I don't care for conformity much. I always prefer individuality, self-expression. As I am a reader of people, I like the most amount of data possible.) Anyway, from a study I have seen, women are more attracted to a man in a uniform than without. However (no surprise to me) men are typically uninfluenced by a woman in uniform. But to be fair, and accurate, the nature and specifics of the uniform do matter. A cop, a fireman, is not the same as a pair of overalls. Sweaty biceps, or not.

It is, therefore, of little surprise to me that a woman happened along, crossed paths with him, and she was... well, let's just say she wanted to marry a cop. So they began a relationship. But I'll give you one guess who wanted more, and who wanted less. You done? Okay, I'll moving on.

What followed with a significant amount of time 'in talks.' Like the U.N. Or a committee... of two. Back and forth, back and forth. Serve, volley... all that. Guess who won? Now is the point when you say, "But no one forces another person to get married. You always, ultimately, have a choice!" Well you can say that, but tell that to the guy who's sitting across from a woman crying her eyes out, imploring you to agree with her world view. Her hugs, her kisses, her... blank and blank. He tried to remain resolute. "I don't want this. I do love you [that part I am presuming, but haven't heard first hand], but I am not looking to get married right now. I just started my career." And what, I'm sure, he really wanted to say was, 'I just started my f'ing life! I want/need some freedom. I want to see the world, find who I am, find what it's all about. By myself.' Do you blame him?

But she wasn't having it. "But I loooove you." And then, besides the tears, tragedy struck. Life happened. Her father died. Then her mother got sick. It was all too much. He could no longer tow the line. He caved. "Biggest mistake of my life." At 70 years old, that moment, not the one that followed, was the biggest mistake of his life. He has regretted it ever since. He takes responsibility for his decision, yes, but it does not change the fact for him, that he was coerced into that life, against his will, his desire, his logic, his emotion, and every thread of his being. Now consider this, for a moment. We've all been through things which we wish we could change (well, according to a whole bunch of you, you "never look back", so I don't know what you're smoking - or not smoking - but regular people do have regrets. It's healthy to reflect back on past mistakes. What you all meant - I know - is that one shouldn't dwell on them, fixate on them. But I do also suspect that some people don't spend enough time in self-reflection, and are resolutely 'onward and upward' kind of folks. Well, your life.

I have a moment in my life, where I caved under pressure. And it literally almost killed me. I almost drowned as a result of it. Not a story I enjoy retelling, but needless to say, moments do matter. And for this man, this was a turning point in his life. Remember Ross and Chandler and Rachel in 'Friends', trying to get the sofa up the stairwell, with Ross yelling "Pivot! Pivot! Uh, I don't think it's goona' pivot anymore." Anyway, I can't say, simply, "Don't do it." We all will. It's how we learn not to do 'it' again. But it will always be something new, a new problem to solve, a new fork in the road.

So they got married (you can practically see the forlorn look on his face in the wedding photos.) At some point, she got pregnant. I don't know the timing on that exactly. Now I'll refer to my opening paragraph, to protect the guilty, and say that Mr. Brady had three boys. (He did not marry a woman who had three daughters. My analogy stops there.) Mrs. Brady was a vivacious woman, some would say 'a force.' She ran the household, the home. She kept everyone in line. There were paino lessons, trips to church, always hot home-cooked meals. He was also well taken care of. I don't know about the sex, but I'm absolutely certain her 'job' as a mother was not the only 'job' being performed in that house.

She hosted many a-dinner, was an excellent cook. The house was nicely appointed, and they drank wine and laughed with great enthusiasm, when company would visit. But there was a longing inside of him. She was relatively happy, but for him... there was something missing. There always was. It's not like it was a revelation. The feelings of quicksand soon set in. The three boys were growing up, that was fine, but he had an ache in his belly. Like the wilderness calling (but he was relatively content in his urban existence.) He has always had certain poetic kinship with wolves. The 'lone wolf'; as well, the 'lone ranger', the vagabond, the man on the motorcycle... these are associated only with men. The 'fairer sex' has little interest in such things. Yet there seems to be little recognition, or, rather, acceptance, of this very innate trait. This feeling continued. It never lessened. It only intensified. Stronger, and stronger, and stronger, this frustration built in his mind. What happens when you pluck a wild creature out of the forest, and put him in a cage? You can't tame him by confining him. There are various methods to attempt to quell him. Breaking the spirit. Luring him with "wine and sweet words" as Plautus says. Call it devolution, if you want, but a man who feels he is being contained, controlled... oppressed, even, can become a very dangerous and volatile creature.

"But didn't he love his kids? Why wasn't that enough? How could he even consider it?" These are valid questions, but they have no answer. The mind can do amazing things, but it is also quite capable of cracking, and when that happens, who, really, is capable of foreseeing the future?

So, a plan began to form. Oh, but first, I must insert some critical data/information - he had a woman on the side. More than one, but does it really matter, at this point in the story? And, true to form (as with the majority of women - I don't care what y'all say, the majority still do prefer commitment over ultimate freedom - though, yes, the numbers of fidelity are on par now, statistics say) the next key woman in his life did fall madly in love with him. Oh, she loved him so much. Why not? He was charming, he was badged, he knew just the right words to say. And she was not too bad herself. Short skirts, painted nails, red lips just so. Perky and also vivacious. And new. New is key. It seemed like a win-win, for a while. But here's where the next 'kick' comes in (seen 'Inception'? Check it out. Great film.) She, the alternate, the sub, wanted more. He wanted a way out. (The money? The biased-towards-women court system? Oh yeah. You better believe those factored into all of this.) Put two heads together and what do you get? A great idea. (Or a grossly illogical solution.) She should k-i-double hockey sticks the wife. [Pausing to give you time to catch up, and get over the shock.] Who says all men are the ones who commit violent acts? Oh, you naive one. Here's some trivia for you... name the two situations where women are likely to commit acts of violence? 1. In retribution or in defence of their man, and 2. To protect their children. You know the phrase about a woman scorned. But this woman wasn't scorend. She was head-over-heels. Same diff. Sort of.

So Ms. Short Skirt and Mr. Brady devised a plan. "You (Ms. Short Skirt) go over to my house, and 'tell' Mrs. Brady that you strongly 'suggest' that she divorce her husband." At this point I should say blah blah blah they talked about divorce, and he did everything he could to convince her that he wanted out, but apparently it takes two people to get a divorce, not just one. And with the looming threat of "I'll take you for everything that you're worth" ($$$), "You just try it, buddy. You'll never see your kids or this house again." (And then there was the pivotal time when, in the middle of another one of their ragers, she grabbed his gun off of the table, and pointed it at him, right at him. "Just try and leave me." He knew, he ain't never getting out of this marriage.

[Dinner break. Pause for intermission.]

400 characters left. Let's wrap this baby up.

"You (Ms. Short Skirt) dress up in all black. Here, take this ski mask, this knife with the long blade. I'm goona' be on shift, so I'll have my alibi. Kids will be at a play date. Now go 'convince' her to make 'the right decision'... for all of us" (which really meant for one of them.)

But this wife, Mrs. Brady, oh, she's a fighter. One tough cookie. And she wasn't going down without a fight. Her tombstone might have to say, "I won't be intimidated, Deary" (whomever you are.) So, as The Simpsons say, with their rousing tribute to the Japanese work ethic, "Knife goes in, guts come out, that's what Osaka Seafood Concern is all about..."

It wasn't meant to be that way. It was meant to be a 'suggestion.' And only if necessary, a little waving of a blade. But Mrs. Brady charged forward, but not before she grabbed the rifle that was kept 'safely' stowed in the house (I will never, ever agree with some of you that guns in a domestic house are a good idea - case in point), and proceeded to shoot offending Ms. Short Skirt. Scuffle, scuffle, scuffle. Uh oh. Roles reversed. Who's the victim and who's the purpetrator here, anyway?! Now I will not be so disgusting as to say, as Kramer does, "K-k-k-cat fight!" with that ridiculous look of glee on his face. This was two women, fighting with everything they've got. One for love, one for life. Everything was at stake. A shot was fired. The bullet could have gone anywhere, but it went into her stomach. I won't be specific about the injuries, but it was bad. Really bad.

Let's jump in our time machine now and skip ahead a bit. Mrs. Brady lay in the hospital, fighting for her life. The city/town/neighbourhood was suddenly in turmoil. This metropolitan city/idyllic town didn't know what just hit them. The children were trundled off to Mema's house. The police department went into action. Kudos to their detective work. Funny how cops often get themselves into these situations (not ha ha, and not surpising), because in cases like this, the cop is always the Numero Uno, the first one to be suspected. At this point, everything fell apart (or fell into place, as it were) and both were eventually arrested, and charged. Mrs. Brady recovered, though the physical and emotional scars may never fully disappear.

Before you get your knickers in a twist, the cop went to jail. He served time. He was lucky his wife was such a fighter. Well, lucky in one way and not in another. If she wasn't such a fighter, she wouldn't have nearly bled out to death or have the scar to remind her daily of her ordeal. But she also wouldn't have been shot at all. So he went to jail, not on a first degree murder charge, but on attempted manslaughter. The line that I find most interesting, most almost amusing, about this entire tragedy slash farce, is when I asked him, "So, what was it like being in jail? How bad was it?" "You know, people think jail must be awful, must be so terrible, but actually, it wasn't that bad. It was better than being married. I was more happy in jail, than the whole time I was married."

I don't know about you, but what I think about this... not the only thing but one of the many things.. is that women really need to stop pressuring men to get married. And before you jump down my throat thinking that I am in any way putting the blame or onus on women - I am simply saying, that some men are just not meant to be married. And they know it. They know with every fibre of their body that they don't want it. And a trapped man is a potentially very, very dangerous man.

Does he feel guilty? Does he know the pain and sorrow that he caused to all involved (one of the three sons has never really recovered from this betrayal)? Yes he does. Part of that was through looking up above, and finding a deep connection with someone up there, and he repented for his sins. He confessed them all, and he has spent a lifetime trying to make up for them. But at the age of 70 now, his biggest regret, his biggest sin, in his eyes, was not the act, the plan that got put into action. It was saying, "Yes, I will marry you."

I have only one more thing to say, and it may make you feel a little better. Here's your warm milk, your whiskey before bed. They all have family Christmas dinner together now. She is a God-fearing woman, eventually remarried a professional clergy of the church, and the five of them [sometimes, geography-dependent] all sit down for Christmas dinner, and say, "Pass the gravy, Amen." Now THAT'S a happy ending, if ever I heard one. An unconventional, twilight zone, face palm of an ending, but it is the real ending of this story.

Goodnight and sweet dreams, folks. And remember, don't ever let another person convince or coerce you into doing something that you know you can't handle. Any decision could end up being the biggest mistake of your life.

Confessions and Revelations of a Caged Man
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