Getting Murdered: How ERA kills its best

Imagine - if you can - not having a conscience, none at all, no feelings of guilt or remorse no matter what you do, no limiting sense of concern for the well-being of strangers, friends, or even family members. Imagine no struggles with shame, not a single one in your whole life, no matter what kind of selfish, lazy, harmful, or immoral action you have taken. And pretend that the concept of responsibility is unknown to you, except as a burden others seem to accept without question, like gullible fools. Now add to this strange fantasy the ability to conceal from other people that your psychological makeup is radically different from theirs. Since everyone simply assumes that conscience is universal among human beings, hiding the fact that you are conscience-free is a no brainer. You are not held back from any of your desires by guilt or shame, and you are never confronted by others for your cold-bloodedness. The ice water in your veins is so bizarre, so completely outside of their personal experience, that they never even guess at your condition. You are completely free of internal restraints, and your unhampered liberty to do just as you please, with no pangs of conscience, is conveniently invisible to the world. Furthermore, causing harm to others is a turn-on. Ted Bundy was an obvious case in point. But the Ted Bundys of the world leave battered brains and mutilated bodies for police to discover, so that they can get locked up where they belong. What do you do about a white-collar psychopath who leaves behind battered souls and mutilated minds? His destruction is equally devastating, but it doesn’t show. His carnage is invisible. Tell the police about him, and they want to lock you up as the madman. The ask you what kind of drugs you are on? And what do you do when you are the target? With the single-minded obsession of the terminator, this psychopath wants you dead. You can't say you don't want to play anymore. You can't ask him to stop, because the more he hurts you and the more damage he causes, the happier he becomes. With the Terminator, if there was any shred of comfort for Linda Hamilton, at least it was the fact that there was nothing personal. But what do you do when this Ted Bundy clone is part of your family, he is your son-in-law, and he has completely taken over the mind of his mother, and bent it to his will. What do you do when his mother is the love of your life. Suddenly the woman you know to be consummately gentle, sane and loving, the one who holds you in thrall, is rubbing her hands in glee as you groan and lie dying in the gutter. Say it isn’t true. Please say it isn’t true. It all becomes so bizarrely up close and personal it beggars comprehension. Your brain just refuses to get around it. Welcome to a uniquely distilled concentration of pure hell, so intense and so terrifying, you cannot begin to imagine it as possible, let alone to actually be happening! Welcome to my life. And my death. This story describes a situation so intense and gut-wrenching, that nothing else you ever read, comes close. This is the definitive study of a psychopath in his element. This is the portrayal of sanity gone mad.