Home » Reasonably true » Dear Dzhokhar

Dear Dzhokhar

It was an awesome trip, wasn’t it?  Two big pops out of nowhere, smoke, fire, and chaos.  People screaming, blood everywhere, severed limbs, bits of unidentifiable flesh.  You and Tamerlan, the big brother you idolized, calmly receding from it all, going about your business, planning yet more chaos, unaffected by the drama, except to be swept off your feet by the sheer glory of it.

Was it more like Rambo or Grand Theft Auto?  Too cool.  Even when you were busted, the chase through ordinary streets, guns blazing, IEDs tossed casually from the window of your ride.  That must have shaken those pathetic American bastards right out of their La-Z-Boys.

You were two dangerous dudes, not to be messed with.

That was it, wasn’t it?  You just wanted to be dangerous.  None of this bullshit about Allah or Jihad.  That was for mom.  That just added a bit of mystery, some of that Middle Eastern spice.  You loved it!

You killed your own sweet beloved brother just so you could keep doing it a bit longer.

Yes, he was shot up.  Yes, he probably would have died right there anyway.  But awfully nice of you to slip that ride into gear, and drive right over him like he was just a piece of road kill.

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