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, so you might say that 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 in the back patio. In the morning, Dylan (my sick dog) had a mess in the garage, a terrible mess; he is indeed very sick. The smell was unbearable. I began to clean the cement floor with a water hose. I put my three dogs in the back patio, and since I was using the hose from the patio, I couldn't close the door, so the door was ajar. I concentrated in cleaning up my dog mess, when I noticed a man walking his dog, a big German Sheppard. We shared a friendly smile at each other, when 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, and I kicked that man as hard as I could on his ribs. Then he turned and hit me on the head; he almost knocked me out. I fell to the ground, but I immediately stood up, 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 as hard as I could, maybe too many times. I kept hitting him even after he was down on the floor, perhaps the last blows were unnecessary.
Then, I hit his dog a few times too. When I began to reason and when I 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. Then I dragged the man to my garage, and his dog too.
Then 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. Then I closed the garage door. I thought my heart was going to explode. I could see my chest expanding rapidly as never before. Now, all I could think of was 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 another regular day. Then I realized that my three dogs were staring at me, startled like me, as if saying, “Now what boss?”
I need to get away from here, right away. I can’t think. I need to disappear. I feel deeply sorry for the man’s family. I feel miserable. How this did happen? Today's events shouldn't be part of my life.
I have to be selfish for a moment. I need to think about me now. I’ll go back to Mexico. I don’t want to spend what's left of my life incarcerated. If they put me in jail, or if I disappear in Mexico, I know 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 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. I love you all, and I will 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.
What bothers me the most is that today is my daughter’s birthday.
Wait, someone's at the door . . .
Visalia, CA. 12-07-2112