Seriously, what the hell is wrong with the Powell family?
I was disgusted when I heard that they wanted to bury Josh Powell right next to the two sons he brutally murdered. As heartless as that seemed, I could at least comprehend the desire to have their disturbed sibling/son buried with his children.
Today I woke up to an article in the Salt Lake Tribune about insurance policies on Susan Powell and her two kids.
Nine days after Josh Powell blew up his house with himself and his kids in it, his siblings started filing papers to collect some $2½ million in life insurance that Josh transferred, from some sort of trust fund to his siblings and father, shortly before killing himself and his kids.
Unbe-freakin’-leivable. How totally devoid of humanity can you be?
The first thing that came to my mind was that, if it were me, anything and everything I bought with that money would be a constant reminder of that one act of heinous selfishness.
Even if I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Even if, as his sibling, I was inclined to believe he was a tortured soul, an emotionally damaged person in so much pain he was unable to think rationally.
Even if. How will they be able to look at all the stuff that money buys and not feel the agony of that one defining moment?
Maybe I just don’t understand.