Impact

The blistering heat outside rivaled the level of rage that simmered within the tiny county courthouse which had become the epicenter of the national news over the last several days. Brenda Howard stood at the microphone positioned front and center in the courtroom and faced the man seated to her left as she trembled and fought the losing battle against the fury that festered within.

"Mr. DeSilva, I -- I -- " she stammered as her face grew redder and her trembling became more acute.

DeSilva sat silently in his manacles with a serene, smug look on his face. He didn't look away from the petite brown haired woman. In fact, he looked directly at her without a trace of anything that remotely resembled emotion. His stare was akin to the blank gaze of a shark; there was nothing behind those big, empty brown eyes -- nothing at all. Finally, Brenda reached her breaking point and lurched over the rail that separated them. Before the stunned sheriff's deputies could move, she was on the serial killer and was pummeling him. He didn't flinch, he didn't duck, he just sat and absorbed the blows with a perverted smile as though he was enjoying the assault. Finally, the deputies managed to pull the hysterical woman from the prisoner and drag her from the courtroom. After a few moments, the chaos had settled down, the judge warned against any further outbursts, and the victim impact statements resumed.

Janice Otten was next. Her sister Kelsey, had been Theodore DeSilva's third victim; Kelsey's head was never found. Janice was determined not to break down like Brenda had. She steeled herself for a few seconds, gathered her thoughts, took a deep breath and turned toward DeSilva.

"Theodore DeSilva, I am not going to break down and scream and cry for you. That's what you want."

DeSilva smirked as he thought to himself that this skinny bitch had no idea what he wanted. He silently reveled in all of the rage and the anger and the hatred. This was his world. When they railed against him, cursed his very existence and spewed all manner of invective at him, he was right in his element.

"I hope you burn in the hottest flames of Hell for all of eternity!" she said in a calm, but scornful manner that betrayed so much hate, that it only served to intensify his developing erection.

As Janice continued to calmly berate him, he recalled how he'd severed her sister's head with one savage hack of his machete, and then proceeded to violate her headless corpse until he left his liquid souvenir inside of her. His attorney was horrified when she noticed the '˜development' in his trousers, and she hastily and discretely removed her jacket and tossed it over his lap.

The last person to speak that day was Bernard Carson. Bernard was thirteen when DeSilva slaughtered his mother. He was now the last of twenty-three people to address the stoic Theodore DeSilva. The twenty-two tormented souls who spoke before him had seethed at, raged at, berated, cried in front of and physically accosted the killer, and none of it had made a dent in the impervious barrier that stood between DeSilva and normal human emotions. But Carson was like none before him. At twenty-one years of age, he was a mountain of a man. If anyone would be able to strike fear into someone, it would be this behemoth. At Six-feet eight inches and three hundred and twenty seven pounds, Bernard could have snapped the wispy murderer in two. The deputies stood more alertly and braced for the worst as Bernard stepped to the microphone. Everyone in the room but DeSilva tensed at the thought of the mayhem that might soon ensue.

But Carson didn't scowl and he didn't lunge. He turned to DeSilva and spoke in a soft voice that belied his gargantuan size.

"Mr. DeSilva, I wish you had known my mother. Because I believe with all of my heart ... that if you had known Edna Carson, you would never have hurt another living soul. It is obvious to me that no one has ever loved you, because someone who has known true love could never have done the things that you've done. I'll admit that I wanted to hurt you for a long time. But I couldn't hang onto that hatred for you. You weren't feeling it. You were in jail hundreds of miles away from me. The only one feeling it was me. Finally I remembered what my mother had taught me long before you killed her. The only one that my hate injures is me. So I decided to forgive you," the giant said with his head now bowed and tears falling freely. "So I forgive you. You are going to a horrible place filled with people who, like you, have never known love. I give you my word that I will pray for you every day when I pray for my mother. I will pray that you find peace and feel love one day before you leave this earth. This bible is for you," he said, pulling a bible from his sweatshirt pocket, "I fear that these pages are the only place left on this earth that you might find love. I hope that you read it, and I hope that you find salvation."

With that Bernard Carson handed the Bible to a deputy and quietly walked out of the now silent courtroom as slack-jawed onlookers watched him. No one ever noticed the tear creeping down Theodore DeSilva's cheek.