When the Monster is Your Son

Timothy McVeigh

  

On April 19, 1995, Timothy McVeigh – forever known as the Oklahoma City Bomber – set off an explosion in front of the Alfred P. Murrah federal building. This senseless act killed 168 people – nineteen of them children under the age of 6. Hundreds of innocent people were injured and over $652 million dollars in damage done to buildings and cars that spanned a sixteen-block radius. McVeigh was arrested on a firearms charge 90 minutes after the bombing. His friend Terry Nichols was charged on May 10^th. McVeigh was executed for this crime on June 11, 2001.

There is a plethora of information on the worldwide web about this case to facilitate debates on his motive and whether he should or should not have been executed. This writing has nothing to do with either topic. Instead, my intent is hold up to the light the grief journey of those who knew and loved him, but had no conceivable notion that he was capable of such a henious crime.

Regardless of what you or I think, McVeigh was born into this world as someone’s son, brother, and grandson. They knew the boy that the rest of the world would not. They loved him for who he was and for the pure soul they believed him to be. This is not unlike the rest of us. We are born to people who love us, have faith in us, and wouldn’t believe we are capable of doing anything but good in this world. I don’t know what went wrong for McVeigh. I don’t know – or even profess to understand – how he could do what he did. Nor do I understand how or why The Green River Killer, Ted Bundy, or Jack the Ripper did what they did. What I do understand is that as a mother, to endure the painful reality that my son was capable of any of these actions would be devestating.

When someone dies we are encouraged to celebrate their life. We have people rally around us to share stories of our loved one, to support us, and to be there for us in our time of need. Society acknowledges and accepts our need to express our grief. Do you think the McVeighs were afforded the same when their son was executed? I highly doubt the public even thought about their pain. Thousands and thousands rejoiced in justice being served in the way they thought it should. The McVeighs would not have been invited to publicly mourn the loss of their son, brother and grandson – the man who was not the McVeigh the world thought they knew.

The next time you read about a convicted killer, go ahead and celebrate that justice was served if you believe it to be so. But take one second and send a little prayer and love to the family behind the scenes whose hearts are broken and forever shattered. Understand that for all moms and dads, it truly is “but for the grace of God, go I.”