Friday, December 7, 2012


I’m in a hurry; I might not have enough time to finish writing this. I know this will be my last blog post. I won’t have time to revise it or to edit it. So pay no attention to insignificant mistakes. The only good thing about all of this is that I always wanted to write non-fiction. This is it.

I just killed a man. I just dragged his body to my garage. I know I’m not thinking clearly; my mind is very confused. If my writing doesn’t make sense to you, please forgive me. I’m nervous and I don't have time to organize my thoughts.

The most important thing right now is to apologize to the family of that man. I swear to God that I didn’t mean to kill him. I was defending myself. I killed him in self-defense. I’m sure that I am a pacifist, but at times when I see injustices, I become violent. You could say I’m a violent pacifist. 

Since I’m in a hurry and because of the urgent situation this will also be used as my will.

I need to start from the beginning, you just need to know that there’s not a single lie in all that I write here. So in a way, this is my confession too.

One of my dogs had been sick for a few days. I knew he was gravely ill. In fact, I thought he was going to be dead at daybreak. He’s barely alive now. Last night, I let him stay in the garage and I put my other two dogs on the back patio. In the morning, Dylan (my sick dog) had a big mess in the garage, a terrible mess. The smell was unbearable. 

I began to clean the cement floor with a water hose. I put my three dogs on the back patio. Since I was using the patio hose, I couldn't close the door, so the door was ajar. I was concentrating in cleaning the mess when I noticed a man walking his dog, a big German Sheppard. We shared a friendly smile, and suddenly out of the corner of my eye, I saw my dogs parading by my side, barking and heading menacingly toward the man and his dog. 

What happened next it’s still confusing to me. I hope I can be impartially truthful and objective. First, the man kicked my smaller dog, Frida to the middle of the road; I thought for sure she was dead. Then, he kicked Dylan, the poor dog, he had been barely alive. He hadn’t eaten a thing for the last four days. Meanwhile, Diego, (an adult Husky) my other dog, was involved in a fight for his life with the German Sheppard. I must say that Diego is very strong and fierce, but nice and loyal at the same time. 

I’m positive that Diego would have killed the other dog. But the man, (a big African-American) started kicking Diego too, that’s when my blood began to boil. I ran to the guy I kicked him in his ribs as hard as I could. Then, he turned and punched me in the face; he almost knocked me out. I fell to the ground but I immediately stood up to ran to my garage and grabbed a piece of metal pipe that I keep in a  corner for occasions like this. I know the pipe is a weapon, a lethal weapon if I’m mad enough. I went back and hit him with the pipe on the head several times, maybe too many times. I kept hitting him even after he was down on the floor, perhaps the last blows were unnecessary. 

Then, I struck his dog a few times too. When I began to reason and came out of my stupor I turned around to see if anybody had witnessed what just happened, but nobody was around, not a single person was in sight. Still shaking, I dragged the man to my garage, and his dog too. 

I picked up Frida from the middle of the road; she was still alive. Dylan, my poor skinny dog went back to the garage on his own, he could barely walk, but he made it. When I closed the garage door I thought my heart was going to explode. I could feel my chest expanding rapidly as never before. Then, all my thoughts turned into a different kind of fear, the cops showing up and taking me to jail for the rest of my life. 

What I was watching was surreal. The bloody sight, the disfigured man’s face and the dead dog, it was all too much. Today was supposed to be just a typical day. Then, I noticed my dogs were staring at me, startled as if saying, “Now what boss?”

I need to get away from here right away, I need to disappear. But I can't think. I feel deeply sorry for the man’s family, I feel miserable. What happened today wasn't supposed to be a part of my life.

I have to be selfish for a moment. I need to find a solution to save myself from this terrible predicament.

I’ll go back to Mexico, that's what I'll do. I don’t want to spend what's left of my life incarcerated. I lose either way if they put me in jail, or if I disappear in Mexico, I won't see my family or my friends anymore. 

The man I just killed won't suffer anymore, but I'll be suffering for the rest of my life. I just killed my future too. It feels like I'm a dead man too, but I’d rather be a lonely free man than a lonely miserable man in prison.

I want to leave the pool table to my son, the flat TV to my sister, and my three dogs to my daughter. I don't care what they do with the rest. I feel terrible it ended this way. I'm glad I won the fight anyhow, this is better than a permanent visit to the cemetery. I hate funerals too.

I love you all, and I will totally miss you very much. I’m sure God witnessed it all, He knows I'm not lying. It was all in self-defense. I wish I could write better and be able to describe properly how bad I feel.

Another thing that bothers me a lot is that today is my daughter’s birthday and I won't be able to join the celebration . . .

Wait, someone's at the door . . . 

Edmundo Barraza
Visalia, CA. 12-07-2112