his demon soul revealed
I've been trying all morning to write something about Scott Peterson. But what can you possibly say about a man that would kill his wife and unborn child?
I look at the pictures of Laci Peterson and in all of them she is smiling broadly. Her eyes twinkle, they do not betray any worry or fear that would lead one to believe that Laci knew her husband had the capacity to kill her.
I knew men like Scott. I used to call them Eddie Haskells. They have sly smiles and firm handshakes and impeccable manners. Behind those white-toothed grins and strong hands and polite phrases, their minds are constantly churning, trying to figure out how they can parlay your trust of them into gold.
Except Eddie Haskell never killed anyone.
The guys I knew, when they held the door open for a girl it was a metaphor for opening other doors. Like the one to her bedroom. When they greeted your mother with "My, you look so beautiful today," they weren't looking at her but at the diamond pendant she was wearing. Their charm was only skin deep. Behind the snake-like skin was a schemer, a planner, a thief or a womanizer.
I always looked at the eyes. I always knew. They say the eyes are the gateway to the soul and I firmly believe that. You can tell at a glance if someone is sad even though they are smiling, or seething with a slightly disturbing hatred for the world even though they are grinning.
From the moment I looked into Scott Peterson's eyes the first time he appeared on television, I had an inherent mistrust of him. I saw him as a cold, calculating liar, capable of almost anything.
But not this. Murder, yes. Throwing your pregnant wife into the water, tying her down with cinder blocks and fishing weights and then parading around town like the bereaved husband - it seems so much more depraved than just murder.
It's Susan Smith driving her babies into the water. It's a step beyond your ordinary killings that go on every single day. There's a message attached, a deep-seated psychological power struggle that explodes when that person tries to take control of an already out-of-control situation. It's about the wide-smiled facade falling apart and the defiance and rage that ensues when that person realizes his demon soul has been revealed.
I can only imagine Laci Peterson's last thoughts. The man she loved was killing her. The father of her child - the child almost ready to grace the world with his presence - was killing them both. I'm sure her heart died before she did.
What punishment is there to suffice for this crime? None. None at all.