Photographing a Murderer
“A man was killed, another man will most likely be brutalized in prison … and now the rest of us will go about our lives.”
January 2007 | Clarion, Pennsylvania | By D. CURTIS ALDRICH
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The Rutted Tracks of Our Careers“Instinctively, my right hand went to the .357 weighing heavily on my sweat-covered holster.” The Art of Thievery“I loved to read, but buying books was a bit steep on a school kid’s allowance. If I wanted to get the newest comic books and the crispest paperbacks before the public library got its copies, my only choice was to ‘liberate’ them from the capitalist grasp of the bookseller.” | And he went on to develop quite the technique. The Egg in the Frying PanHe threw his French fries, one by one, down the aisle. He tossed them at a leisurely pace. Over a period of about 10 minutes, he moved on to tiny bits of his hamburger bun and, finally, to the ketchup. With this final toss, he barely missed hitting the feet of the two guys across the aisle. Kicking ItKicking a four-year addiction to heroin was the hardest thing she could imagine. She could not envision life without dope. She thought she’d die a dope fiend. Kicking was the most physically and mentally torturous experience of her life. She wouldn’t wish it on her worst enemy. Tags: addiction, college, crime, death, mothers, Oregon, Pennsylvania, pregnancy, under the influence
In the Cold Indiana GroundNot again. Joshua, Steve, and now David. Three cousins, three drug overdoses. Two kids side-by-side in an Indiana graveyard, and now the mournful, resigned phone call and the hasty trip back to bury another one. As she cries for her nephew she is remembering her son. Meeting MickeyWhen the cover band played “Jumpin Jack Flash” she lept onto the disco dance floor and strutted her stuff as colored lights flashed underfoot. She turned as someone tapped her on the shoulder. It was Tunic Top Guy. “Hey, babe, let’s get shattered together.” Love Wrote this LetterThat weekend she got to know her husband’s boys. Bright-eyed and sweet to the core, sometimes their shoulders looked heavy, like a burden too big to carry had been heaved upon them. She wondered if it was her. On Christmas Eve, she found out it wasn’t. Stupid WomenOn a cold winter day, Lena left her husband. They had been married for nearly 20 years. She didn’t take much, just one suitcase full of as many clothes as she could jam into it. She did it while he was at work. She told no one. Interview at the American ConsulateHe grabbed Lucy’s hand in the large waiting room of the American consulate. They had been living in Mexico for three years, and after piles of immigration paperwork, months of waiting, and two children’s births, they were finally going to be able to return to the United States.  |
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