I grabbed a laptop from the nurse's station because I can't sleep.
I have to say from the outset that, despite not actually knowing her, I dislike Casey Anthony. I've known girls who seem to be like her: ones who are self-centered, ones who lie prolifically and sometimes just for practice, and ones who laugh in the face of somber moments. There cannot be anything so funny that it would make a moral person laugh at his or her own child's murder trial, whether or not he or she is the accused standing trial.
I also want to share that I don't get the "molester" vibe from George Anthony or from his son Lee. I don't know that I would get the vibe -- especially over TV -- even if they really did molest the child, but in any case I'm just not seeing it.
I'm far from an expert on molestation. No adult has ever come close to doing anything to me that could be classified as molestation. I have some mean relatives on one side, but at least they're not child molesters. Isn't it sad when the best thing you can say about a huge portion of your humongous family is that they're not child molesters? Maybe Uncle Mahonri's tombstone could be inscribed with the words, "Never sexually molested a single child." What an epitaph! Mahonri may have stolen everything that wasn't Krazy-glued down, and he once grabbed my foot so hard that he left a bruise when I was two, but he at least didn't sexually molest me or any other kids. He's so inept at just about everything he does that there's almost no way he could ever have done something like sexually molest a child without thoroughly bungling the act and getting caught. It's not the norm to have the open microphone thing at Mormon funerals, but if they break protocol and have that feature at Uncle Mahonri's funeral, presuming that I outlive him, I will approach the microphone, say, "Uncle Mahonri never sexually molested me even once." Then I'll sit down. The congregation will wonder what the hell that was all about, but what it would be about is that would be the nicest thing thing I could honestly say about Uncle Mahonri.
Regarding the Anthonys, what I'm feeling is sympathy for them, except for Casey. I suspect that if we could look back at random moments in their past family life, we would see some examples of enabling and defending Casey when she lied or acted out. I believe I shared in an earlier blog that my mom said if teachers were allowed to tell what they knew, we would see Casey gradually becoming the adult she grew to be. Still, it's highly unlikely that they ever did anything in their lives to deserve their presently suffering. This seems to be Karma gone awry.
Poor parenting of Casey, though, is not necessarily a given here. The Anthonys may have been textbook-perfect parents who just ended up with a rotten apple. Even if it's proven that she had nothing to do with her child's death, I feel justified in referring to Casey as a rotten apple just because of the way she behaved when her child was missing, whether or not she knew what happened, or especially if she DIDN'T know what happened. I understand that people both grieve and worry differently, but Casey's actions are so far removed from what the world observed with the Walshes, the Carringtons and Sunds, the Smarts, the Klasses, and the Rochas and Grantskis (Lacy Peterson's family; I can't say the same for Scott Peterson's family, obviously) that the idea that she deviates so far from the way any of the other immediate families handled themselves in the interval that the loved one was missing is indicative, at the very least, of everything always being about HER.
I've seen less footage of George Anthony with the little girl, though those in the know claim that he spent much time with her and was very doting. More footage has been shown of little Caylee with her grandmother, Cindy Anthony. She seemed such a loving, caring, and proud grandmother of the little girl. I suspect any child would be lucky to have her as a grandmother if the thousand words that those pictures speak are in any way indicative of reality. I know I'd trade her for my own grandmother in a heartbeat. For that matter, I'd trade George for my grandfather as well. Lee could replace any uncle on my dad's side except Uncle Steve, who has been my savior more than once. I'm not saying the Anthonys are perfect people, because I don't know them that well, but the angry, sometimes almost maniacal behavior we witnessed from George on occasion is what the public would probably witness from my dad if my brother or I ever disappeared inexplicably.
If it ever is proven that Casey's seemingly outrageous accusations of esxual molestation at the hands of her father and borhter are true, I'll take back everything I've said. I don't think that's very likely to happen, though. I can only hope the jury is seeing what I'm seeing, and that the one possible rogue juror, the one who was seated despite her claim that she has problems with judging anyone, isn't allowed to throw a wrench into the workings of justice. If her opinion truly does differ from those of her fellow jurors, she deserves to be heard, but if she refuses to deliberate because of her disinclination to judge another human being, she needs to be tossed once deliberations begin in place of a more qualified alternate juror.
I've watched too much of this case and have too cloesly followed the proceedings. I tend to do that with true crime, particularly where children or pregnant women are involved. Upcoming classes will prevent me from maintaining such an over-the-top obsession.
I don't know how everyone else feels when a person says, "I believe everythng happens for a reason." If the person means simply that occurrences are not usually random and that every happening has an impetus of some sort . . . duh! What the people who say that usually seem to mean, on the other hand, is that every single occurrence, good or bad, is some part of a divine plan. How could anyone look at a situation such as the murder of a two-year-old and rationally believe that it was part of some grand scheme in the unfolding of life on this planet? I wish the people who use that expression -- both those in public life (I heard Tatum O'Neal say it tonight) and the people who spend time near me -- would view that particular sentiment in light of situations such as little Caylee's.
We can only hope for justice for the almost-baby (may she rest in peace in the arms of Jesus), whatever justice really means in this case.