Today is April 20th, the anniversary of the Columbine High School Massacre, when Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold, a pair of teenagers, put into action their plan to terrorize and murder the people of their school.
They killed 13 people, 12 students and a teacher, and then themselves.
15 Human beings. Let that sink in.
Fifteen Human beings were ripped apart by gunfire, spilling their blood and probably some insides on the walls and floors of a school. They fell to the ground screaming in pain, unless they were one of the few who died instantly to head shots. They lay in pools of blood while these two kids taunted and jeered at them, waving rifles and cracking jokes.
One girl, by the name of Cassie Bernall, was hiding under her computer desk, listening to this carnage, when one of the killers knelt down next to her, yelled "Peek A Boo!" and shot her in the head.
Just imagine that for a moment. Put yourself in her place.
Kneel below a desk, knowing you're not really hidden or protected. Hear the gunshots. Hear the screams. Smell the cordite of expended rifle shells. Smell the blood. You're shaking violently with fear, trying not to make a sound.
Know that you can't protect yourself. That nobody can protect you. Nobody is even trying, they're all running for their own lives. If you try to run, those boys will see you and they'll shoot you too.
Watch the killer's boots come toward your desk. He sees you. You can see the smoking tip of his rifle swaying back and forth as he walks. He's coming to kill you. For no reason at all.
He kneels down and he's laughing. He looks at you, he points his gun at you, and there's nowhere for you to go.
He says "Peek A Boo!" with a big grin, and pulls the trigger.
I don't know what it feels like to be shot in the head. They say it's instant, that you die before you feel anything. But who really knows?
Now imagine your own fucking mother, once she's begun to get over the grief of her daughter being murdered for no reason in a high school library, takes it upon herself to write a book about you. Within MONTHS of your death, she has invented a heroic last stand for you. She has put last words in your mouth.
Misty Bernall, Cassie's mother, wrote a book about how, when the killers asked her daughter if she believed in God, Cassie defiantly said "Yes" and was executed in return. It was referred to as a "Martyrdom."
None of this happened.
Another student was apparently asked, after being wounded, if she believed in God. She answered no, then yes, then no again, then that she was trying to get the 'right' answer. The killer asked her why she believed. She said it was because that's what her parents believed. The killer laughed and walked away, saying "God is gay." That girl survived.
Cassie Bernall just heard "peek a boo" and died violently.
Now, I can understand a mother wanting her daughter's death to mean something. That's a sad but understandable impulse. I would resist the idea that after all my praying, after living a decent life, my child would be ripped from me for no reason other than a teenager's grudge against society. I get it, Misty. You're sad and pathetic and desperately out of touch with the harsh reality of life, but I get it.
Now here's what I don't get.
Earlier today, a friend of mine claimed that she "always celebrates this day", because the story of Cassie Bernall, as set forth in the book "She Said Yes: The Unlikely Martyrdom of Cassie Bernall" is what brought her to Jesus.
Celebrates.
A lie about a murdered child is cause for celebration?
The worst part is that everyone who does the slightest research KNOWS the book is a lie. They know it didn't happen. Multiple eyewitnesses have testified to that. They KNOW this girl's mother made up a religiously inspiring story in order to capitalize on her child's violent death.
But some people still go by it.
I love the friend in question. She's a kind, thoughtful woman. So what could make a decent person like her celebrate the screaming, lonely deaths of a dozen children?
...
People always ask me why I hate religion so much.
