Family Tradition

So the whole family is here now. I was missing big bro, but Christmas does have a tendency to bring families together. And by together, I mean all reading the website of the woman a patriarch of the family raped. And we all do it on Christmas. Don’t you just fucking love the holiday season. Tinsel and hot cocoa and family time listening to the screams of the woman being raped. It’s so nostalgic.

Now, in case anyone was wondering, the first person I reached out to was big bro. See, {D} told me he can only spend so much time with big bro before they get into a physical fight. {D} would also tell me that I was the only person who could piss him off as much as big bro. I have a feeling that I know why. Big bro knows his bullshit too. {D} is a horrible liar. I knew he was lying to me about things; I didn’t know what, though. It’s been a while of dissecting the shit he said and growing the made-up details and figuring out the real names, because he does change the names.

I had a gut feeling that, amongst everyone else, big bro knew the absolute truth of what happened. I think he knew I was telling the truth. I don’t have confirmation of this. But if anyone was going to believe me in {D}’s family, I really believe, from what {D} has told me, it would have been him.

I figured he just wanted to stay out of this shit. He seems like a normal enough person. I have heard stories, and I know about boundaries he has put in place with the family. I also see where he has taken care of {D} through the years. I always wanted to meet him.

So every once in a while, I get hits to the website from his state or areas surrounding the town he lives in. I wonder from time to time if he lets curiosity get the better of him and comes and reads something.

Well, this time I had a hit from his town. Not a big town. Generally speaking, I assume when I see a specific town where members of {D}’s family live, I’m going to assume the person with the same last name is the person visiting the website. Case in point: the young lady and the former Mrs. {D}. I might also have the boy child occasionally, but he lives in a sizable enough town and doesn’t visit with the same distinct regularity. I don’t have a pattern on him like I do the rest of the family. I also think I have a niece or two occasionally. But that’s speculation.

But big bro, I would actually love to have a conversation with you. Not to bitch about him or dig up dirt or anything. I just kind of want to know what happened to you guys when you were kids. He never would tell me. I know enough to draw some conclusions. I know how—and statistically how—one gets to the point he is at. It generally involves violence in childhood.

I sent your father an email at one point, big bro. I was not gentle. I do blame him. It has to be him. That’s the source of everything else. Ethically and morally, I mean, shooting people in the back and falsifying federal documents to cover it up pretty much answers a lot of questions as to the type of person you’re dealing with.

I’ll tell you the moment I realized how fucked up {D} was. I knew he drank—clearly, how could one miss that. He was talking about getting in trouble at the dorms for drinking, and I’m thinking he means partying, right? And then he said he was also drinking alone in his dorm room. Now, drinking and drinking alone are two very different things. You drink in college at parties. You don’t sit alone and ingest a depressant for hours on end. That is indicative of much deeper issues. So I asked him how long he had been drinking alone, and he told me 13.

A young adolescent drinking alone at that point is nothing but self-medication. He had to have had some serious issues. I get that you bounced around a lot moving, and I get that he really didn’t have any friends. And you were the one who kept him in the group, you know. And then the one friend he has, he loses.

I feel bad for him. I’m just the type of person who wants to go grab 13-year-old {D} and give him a hug and try to help him before it turns into this. The lack of intervention, man. I don’t know what to say.

But I do have people in your family I blame more than {D} for {D}’s actions. I blame him—I really do.

I want to ask you a favor, big bro, because no one else seems to think it is as imperative as I do. Can you fucking talk to him and get him some help? Just at least therapy? The last thing I bought him—and this was after everything went down—was a workbook on depression. I was talking to him about emotions and how to process them. I really want him to get help. So if you can put some pressure on him, please do.

And I don’t know about you, but 13-year-old big bro might need a hug too. It never hurts to have someone to talk to, so if you’re not already, maybe get some counseling too. Whatever happened back then, not your fault. Just remember that.