(Disclaimer: This article contains altered religious themes about fictitious childhood trauma that may be disturbing.)

Let us step into the parlour of the mind of a violent criminal. With all the criminal activity rummaging through this land, we are compelled to do this. We have looked at the police and their deficiencies. We have looked at the family structure and its shortcomings. It is time to go deep inside the mind of a violent criminal. Buckle up.

Before we let ourselves in, we may want to look in the mirror and quiz ourselves about ourselves, on the likely assumption that many of us might have committed a non-violent crime sometime in our lives, from something petty to something pretty awful, without getting caught. Ok? Course clear.

There is a warm feeling of desired satisfaction bordering on or even venturing into a zone of euphoria in undertaking any criminal activity. You step into a world that you and you alone control. Your thoughts are more elastic than a rubber band. You can imagine that when you get really good at it, your thoughts might even extend into a robber band. Yes, you can be funny too and get macabre laughter without paying a penny for your thoughts; but the primary business at hand is to bask in this wonderful world you have created.

This is a world that gives you immense power, power that can rise way above the earthly realm of non-violent crime to a much higher, satisfying plane of dark pleasure with the possession and warm presence of an extended arm, another forearm, a firearm, a companionable gun.

Initially, there is no thought of killing anyone. The gun simply adds to the dependable staple of your creation and creativity. Any death is a mere byproduct, an offshoot, of your new heaven, your novel personal earth. The gun is the signed, sealed, and delivered guaranty that you can rest comfortably in your haven genesis after six or less days and nights of hard creative work.

They said you would become nothing but look at you now. People cringe and become unhinged in your presence. You could have become a respectable, professional socialite, and got a somewhat similar degree of satisfaction from blue-collar and white-collar crimes, but that might have diminished your current potential targets. Plus, that sort of crime would have demanded far more expensive and prolonged undertaking and planning. Why spend many years of your life making two million dollars, steal one million, and ruin your reputation in the process, when you can steal one million with a down payment of just a few dollars? These high society, archetypal, good-citizen criminals have no moral right to question and pontificate on you.

Why should you have any regard for the rights of others when they had no regard for you? They could have shown a little compassion, consideration and civility and helped you when you were in dire need. They must pay now since they didn’t pay earlier in your life. You were at the back of the class in school and, expelled, you ended up teaching yourself the simple lessons of life that the underpaid and overworked teachers could not teach to reach you.

A drink, a spliff, or a sniff was initially just an aperitif, but eventually they became spoonfuls of sugary medicine to make the crime go down. You listen to all genres of music. Most people think that loud, brash, jumpy music is needed to support you. In fact, the near perfection of the sound of slow, soft, seductive, dirgelike classical music echoes the perfection you demand to do your job, as you take it in before and after deeds, with large volumes of unadulterated, fine liquor.

Family, friends and guardians? Who are they? Which part they come from? Forget those crazy bastards. They forgot you, so do unto them as they did unto you. Some of them were the worse. Who got more love and attention, and who got none at all? Who got so much love and too much love and bizarre attention and affection? Who totally, deliberately, and wantonly misread the biblical verse after Sunday School about suffer little children to come? Jesus Saviour, pilot me. Those hypocrites. And in church too? Between bare pews on which you could barely sit after.

It should not have taken so very long and so much abuse for someone to get to the bottom of some of these so-called religious people. And to have the nerve, the unmitigated gall, to tell you as a child that the devil finds work for idle hands, whilst putting your trembling hands to busily work on them. And then deny knowledge of the act three times whilst waiting for the cock to crow. And calling you Peter? Mon Dieu! Drink this in remembrance of whom! At least Pontious Pilate washed his hands.

You had done the math. The police are few and far between. The people are scared of you as much as they are scared of few members of the police force. You prowl at night on location whilst some policemen snore at night in the police station, if it’s open. The country is wide open. You pawn your wares and launder your money amongst some of the same members of the neighborhood who are asked to wash you out, whilst they are awash with your cash.

In the final chapter, when you get caught, you will take responsibility for your life of crime. With or without a good lawyer, you will go to jail. Whether or not you become a repeat offender, there is one, singular attribute that your criminal mind will always have that some of those on the outside reading into your mind might never possess. It is the one precious life lesson that you finally learned that many members of society are yet to consistently and publicly demonstrate. It was a very hard and painful lesson to learn, but maybe, just maybe you were setup or predestined to be the one, the one and only begotten son to try to teach the gospel to society of this fundamentally important virtue that hopefully many might learn: Responsibility.

This article was originally published by Antigua News Room. Read the original article here: COMMENTARY: The Mind of a Criminal.