367. Murder.

I wonder what it feels like……to murder. Don’t worry folks, this is not some declaration of descent into psychopathy, but it is on my mind.

Irish media reports at the moment are filled with the tragic discovery of a 17 year old boy. This however was not some standard stabbing, or scuffle that got out of hand. It was the brutal dismemberment of a young man’s body, limbs discovered in a duffle bag, head discovered in a burnt out car, and a torso, to my knowledge, yet to be reclaimed.

I can kind off understand crimes of passion, emotions running high as the red mist decends. I can empathise with murder caused in self defence. Crime lords whacking people with a gun shot, to assert authority, is off course ethically questionable but still, in a sense humane.

This however was something else. A drugs feud that has resulted in unspeakable horror. It was calculated, planned, ordered by some high almighty, but the brutality beggars belief.

How can someone inflict such torture on another human being? What sort of twisted mindset enables you to carry on, as your victim begs for their life, roaring in unimaginable pain. How can they possibly live with themselves knowing what they have done?

He was a child. A young lad on the cusp of adulthood, who found himself amongst thugs, who probably revelled a little in having wads of cash.

But ultimately he was someone’s “little man” I’m shocked..

Loopy x