Not Guilty....That's Debatable, OJ

  Having watched the the Casey Anthony verdict today I have come to the conclusion that not only is justice blind, but it just plain doesn't exist. Period. "Innocent until proven guilty" is the common and well-known phrase for all defendants, prosecutors and of course Americans in general. My seven year old even knows it......and lives by it. Exhibit A:
  "Who left the cap off of the toothpaste and squirted it all over the sink?......LILLI!"
  "Mommy, I promise I didn't do it!" (Whine! Sigh! Worried eyebrows....it's all coming together nicely as she plays the part of the innocent. I'm quite proud of my little actress.) "Daddy was the last one in the bathroom....I bet he did it! Just ask him! He leaves his underwear in the floor!" (She even pulls out Daddy's faults to protect herself....smooth if ya ask me. Quick thinkin' on your feet, kid.)
  Now, it's pretty obvious Miss Lilli is the guilty party. Why? Exhibit B:
  1. I heard her in the bathroom only moments before brushing her teeth..............because I TOLD her to do so. (Let us give credit where credit is due: my kid TOTALLY obeyed my instructions.)
  2. Why would Jordan squirt the toothpaste all over the sink knowing I would have to clean it up and purchase more?.....out of his hard earned paycheck?
  3. Daddy's not even home. (This, my friends, is my smoking gun.)
  Yes, Lilli is innocent until proven guilty, however, since all signs point to YES, why bother with arguing? Because this is how the Griffin justice system works. Everyone is entitled to be heard and to debate with the judges: Momma and Daddy. Everyone is entitled to a fair trial. However, there is no representation. One must defend themselves. I highly doubt the College Fund piggy bank given at a baby shower eight years ago will cover attorney fees. Jury and judge are one in the same.  It's you and Jesus, sweets. Start praying now.
  It's pretty clear this is how discipline for any infraction is conducted. Listen to the "guilty" party's plea and their whys THEN make a decision. We've all heard Casey Anthony's many pleas and whys. We've all seen the evidence or lack thereof, and we've all seen that sweet baby's innocent face. In turn we want justice for little Caylee. Here it is from this momma's point of view:
  My kid, as much as I adore and love her, can get on my nerves sometimes. (GASP!) She's seven, friends. This apparently is her job. We don't exactly see eye to eye on everything under the sun and therefore debate ensues quite often. She's right about everything. She's a picky eater. She stubborn. She's loud. (Imagine that.) She's wild at times; on commercial breaks from her brain frying cartoons she performs cartwheels and back-bend-kick-overs all while singing the score to Phantom of the Opera.....at the top of her little lungs.....in the living room. As I write this she is flitting through the house with armloads of baby dolls yelling, "MOMMA!!! Let's finish the BOX!" (We're cleaning out her closet today.) However, I wouldn't trade ANY of her shenanigans for all of the peace, quiet, clean houses, or free time of my own in the world. It's like my blogger status says: She holds my heart in her little pink hand; she splashes every single moment with fairy dust and Lilli-Bug giggles. Why would I not want that every single moment of every single day? I cannot contain my joy when this child is around. She's the reason I try so hard at everything I do; the reason I don't give up even on days when my MS kicks into overdrive and my eye or leg may not work. My heart aches on those days! But her sweet voice and demeanor are what soothe that savage Beast. She's the reason my heart and soul yearn for growth in my own life and spiritual walk. I want to be the best Christian I can be not only for God, but as an example for her. Her birth and life are the reason I understand God and His many graces more than I ever did before she arrived. She's one of the reasons Jordan and I work to make this marriage and this home a safe and peaceful place to be; one of the many reasons, aside from the Father, we're still together and succeeding at a strong, healthy marriage. She's part of the reason Jordan and I fall more and more in love every single day. I look into her big brown eyes and her crooked toothed, beaming smile makes my heart jump right out of my chest. My arms ache to hold her when she's not near. She and her daddy are the reason I get up every single morning and breathe every single moment. They're what keep me from throwing in the towel when life gives me lemons. She's the reason I grew up.
  A few years ago at Chase and Lauren's wedding, Lilli went missing. She was on the playground right next to the open pavilion where the reception was taking place. I thought Jo was watching her, he thought I was watching her. Then suddenly I didn't see her.
  "Where's Lilli?" I asked Jordan as I didn't see her with him.
  "I thought she was with you....?" he had replied.
  We didn't pause to breathe; we immediately ran to my parents and the rest of the family. My heart was pounding. We ran out into the open to yell for her; there was no answer. The playground was empty. The children she was playing with were gone as well. But I didn't see this; I only saw that my baby was missing. I stood in the field in which the pavilion was located. The hills and the sky were spinning around me, blurring into one as I turned to look in every directioin; my hands were aching, cold and clammy. My face was hot with rage but green with panic and worry. The bile was rising in my throat as I thought of the many terrible possibilities. "God, don't take my baby....please...." I whispered as I was barely breathing. It had been about ten minutes from the time Jordan and I realized she was gone. "Oh, God....Oh, God....OH, GOD!!!!" I screamed. The tears were welling in my eyes....Don't panic. We'll find her. Don't panic. Call the police. NOW.

"MOMMY!!! MAAAAHHHHH-MEEEEE!!!! I SAW A TEEPEE!!!!" 

  I heard music. From the side of a bend of trees skipped a tiny pink, silk taffeta dress through freshly mowed grass, the sheer white ribbon from her shoes trailing behind her tiny ankles. They had come untied yet again. Her curly blonde ponytail bounced on her head as she ran toward me, her arms waving excitedly for she had discovered something new and couldn't wait to share it with me. 
  I fell to my knees as she ran straight into my open and pleading arms; her skin was cool from the wind and her little heart was pounding against my own. She leaned back to look at me, squirming under her daddy's and my tight embrace. 
  "Mommy, why are you crying? Do you wanna come see the horseys with me?"she smiled in wonderment.
  I laughed through tears, "I'll go anywhere with you, my little Bug! Just don't ever leave my sight!" I exclaimed as I pulled her in tightly again.
  After surviving my cardiac failure for the day we found out that she had run off with the kids she'd been playing with and their doctor father. She'd told him she "asked her mommy and daddy and they said it was fine for her to run and see the indian teepee and horses." The doctor should've known better, but that's neither here nor there. We were so upset for the remainder of the wedding that 15 minutes later Jordan had Lilli strapped in the car to take her safely home. We didn't allow her to leave our sight for a good week or two due to our traumatic event and had a nice long talk with her about always asking and telling Mommy and Daddy before she does anything in the future.
  My point(s): How long did it take me to notify someone of the situation? How long did it take me to panic? How negatively/positively did this effect Jordan and me? Now, I don't profess to be a perfect parent; I'm far from it. Clearly, a miscommunication got us into a bit of a pickle....but how did we handle said pickle?
  I want the best for my child; I want to be the best for my child. She deserves it.
  For 30 days Casey Anthony partied and enjoyed her "single" life, free from any obligations, responsibilities or duties; free from her child. She never called her family to "find out" where Caylee may have been. She never showed signs of grief or worry; she never even called the police until the very end, being backed into a corner. When she finally called, she lied. If she had nothing to hide, why did she lie? If she wanted and missed her baby so much, why was she spending her efforts and money on beer when she could have been spending those same efforts on finding her "missing" child? She did exactly what Lilli does: she blamed someone else because they tended to (figuratively speaking) leave their underwear on the bathroom floor. Surely they're guilty of the crime at hand.
  My uncle is a retired GBI agent; I have several attorney friends. It was so evident to these people that Casey Anthony was guilty of killing her daughter. Regardless of concrete evidence, the situations and actions all add up to one big fat GUILTY verdict, however, this is America: the land of the free, home of the brave....and the screwed up justice system. I ask, where is justice for Caylee?  What a shame that her momma didn't care enough about her in the moments after her death or disappearance to call the cops. Tsk, tsk. Now, now. (shakes head in reprimanding way) Just because a mother isn't technically "fit" to raise a child doesn't mean she'd kill the child.  No, instead, she called her friends over for a kegger complete with booty music and a trashy leave-nothing-to-the-imagination-come-hither costume....because that's what grieving and worried mothers do, right?  She posed in compromising positions wrapped around men and women alike for photos, all with a Solo cup of outdated PBR in one hand and her rapidly decaying dignity in the other....because that's what respectable, responsible mothers do, correct?  She posted those photos on Facebook or whatever other social network to share with her friends....because that's what caring mothers do, no? I've uploaded photos to Facebook plenty of times before. Again, time spent NOT looking for her kid.
  People argue that there is no "proof". Concrete evidence and fingerprints no longer even have to matter, friends. Heck, blood spatter, smoking guns and bodily fluids/DNA in just the right place aren't even applicable anymore. This country's blind lady of justice has become just another pretty-to-look-at historical artifact with no meaning and she certainly carries no weight, despite her shiny golden scales that beckon to be used. The media is a circus which fuels the flames of gossip and rumor allowing an innocent victim's death and disappearance to become nothing but overtime at the news desk and a shot at writing a good story for next year's Emmys. As for the jury? Clearly the parents on staff are of the same caliber as Ms. Anthony herself if they think she did nothing wrong here.
  As angry as this makes me and MANY others I've seen on the social networks today, does it really matter in the end? In fact, were we really that surprised? Take OJ Simpson for example. He slid right on through like those greasy Mario Kart banana peels while Goldman and Nicole faded into oblivion, their mugs hardly showing up as much as Mr. Vitamin C who I'm sure raked in plenty enough  to cover court costs.....then he screwed up again. Fortunately this time, he was caught and now he's stamping car tags.
  So, tonight, while we're all lying in bed wishing bad happenings and an unfortunate lightning storm on Casey Anthony, as parents let's all keep this at the forefront of our minds: We can walk into our babies' rooms and watch them sleep. The rise and fall of their precious and tired backs will be enough peace for us as we close our eyes knowing they've said their prayers and are not only safe under the protective umbrella of Jesus, but that their parents will do all they can to keep them safe as well. Tomorrow we'll wake up and feed them breakfast; they'll throw it on the floor, whine about wanting chocolate instead of plain milk and pull their diapers up over their little heads, all while laughing as mommy and daddy spending the rest of the morning cleaning out fecies and scrambled eggs from baby's ear canals. My child will beg to go swimming and beg even more for me to get into the water with her because she'd rather have me than all the toys FAO Schwartz can offer and all of the entertainment friends at school can conjure. Tomorrow evening, when we're exhausted beyond belief, they'll crawl into our laps with their favorite book that we parents have memorized, commanding us to read it to them; the light and excitement of mommy and daddy reading in their little eyes as they point to pictures will make the sleep in our own dissipate. Lilli will sing her little opera and scare me to death by flipping off of the couch onto her head after I've told her a thousand times not to do that. They'll ask to snuggle with us, their sweet little candy breath blowing in our faces. Wait....where did you get candy? And we'll smile at their sneaky little ways and all of the aspects that make children and having them so wonderful and magical. We'll wrap our arms around those precious jewels and say to them as we kiss their warm and rosy cheeks, "I love you more than my life; I'll always keep you safe, my child."
  Tonight Casey Anthony will stumble into her eerily quiet house, alone. Her television will be set to OFF because who would want to see the repeat of photographs of their deceased child, the background voices questioning, "did she or didn't she".  She'll plop onto her cold and empty queen size bed in the dark of her bedroom, no doubt reeling from the celebration party that followed the verdict reading having upgraded from PBR to Miller. In the dead of night she'll wake up to urinate and out of habit walk to Caylee's nursery. Toys scattered where the little girl left them, her bed neatly made with no sign of little Caylee. Scenes of a past life everywhere, but only death fills the room and the rest of the house. She'll walk toward Caylee's bed and there will be no peaceful snores or the rising and falling of a full and happy toddler tummy; no fluttering of dreaming eyelashes. She'll walk to the living room where her seized and returned computer will reveal her history from three years ago: a Googled chloroform search and the previous parties' questionable photos Facebook upload. She'll sit in her lonely and barren house, devoid of little girl giggles and sticky hugs and kisses, scattered toys and life in general. The joy will be gone and Casey will cry. Alone. Shuddering in the darkness, missing her sweet little girl, the grief of Caylee's death and the grief of her own decisions finally settling. She'll rock herself, desperate for a comfort that will never come, knowing that all the boys, all the parties and all the booze in the world can't erase the pain that will gnaw away at her heart until the end when the truth will be revealed.
  We can all count on it, friends; just like OJ, she'll screw up again, only next time she'll be caught. Death and overwhelming guilt are now all she knows and eventually they will become a comfort because these are all she'll have. After all, once a killer, always a killer. It's you, Jesus and death, Casey. Start praying now. THAT is justice, friends.

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