So I’m still watching the Zimmerman/Martin Murder Trial and I am getting so turned off by the litany of men (it seems it’s mostly men anyway) paraded on and off the witness stand who are “experts” in some kind of fighting techniques, although the gun expert from the police force was a woman, and she was quite impressive, too.
The male witness who is on the stand now, and hopefully he will be the last one, says he has been interested and involved in all kinds of physical fighting since he was 6 years old. Really? Where was your mother? or Father? Fighting was something you were encouraged to do?
Guns (which I abhor) and techniques to hurt other people have become the norm in this trial. It just seems that these days, with all the people practicing “physical fighting techniques,” the peace-loving pacifist on the street, should he or she come into contact with these pieces-of-work, don’t stand a chance.
Like Trayvon…. a kid who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and came into contact with the wrong guy.
The guy, Mr. George Zimmerman, was a “cop wannabee” and had a license to carry a guy around with him at all times, and apparently that is just what he did – he carried that gun everywhere. Even when he went out to the store – he said he was going to Target on that fateful day – when he spotted a kid walking along, minding his own business, in his neighborhood who wasn’t doing anything wrong but who was, shortly thereafter, shot point blank in the heart and murdered in cold blood by this gun-toting nutcase.
I am sick of it all. But I keep watching – not sure why. I feel like I’d rather know about things, even if I hate and despise them, than not know. At least in most things.
So the Zimmerman/Martin trial is coming to an end, hopefully, today. Then closing arguments and a verdict. I am predicting the jury will set George Zimmerman free in the end. That would not be my personal vote, but the way juries have been going lately, I predict they will fold and let him go – to carry his gun in his little holster, hidden under his jacket, to be used another day on some unsuspecting, innocent young man or woman or, even worse, a child who happens to find him or herself in the wrong place at the wrong time.
May God (or whoever or whatever is in charge) protect us from ourselves.