Writer wants to set record straight
Over the last couple of months, I have considered writing this letter many times. Not to validate my actions, but to tell the ugly truth. After having my life broadcasted, printed, and drawn in a way that was not the truth, it's time to end the ""hush…hush" talking and to clear the air about the night in question.
My purpose for being at the high school that night became cannon fodder for some people was not to "smear" the name of the Hartselle Education System. In truth, I had planned to die that night…there I said it. This is truth number one of many.
Suicide, at that point, was my option left. A little background, try not sleeping for a month, fighting a monster that turns you into a leviathan, going on vacation only to be in the middle of a couple's constant fighting, having the only things you cared about ripped out of your life, and the only thing you can do is fake you are alive.
Now, to the night in question, about two weeks before that night, I had planned on taking my father's Magnum down to Smith Lake. I had the bullet picked out and I had a cover story planned to make sure my family would not be around.
The only snag to this plan is two days before I was going to eat a bullet, my mother moved the gun and I lost the bullet. Being a perfectionist, I improvised plan two.
On the night, or the "feces incident," tagged by several media sources, I waited till my mother went to sleep. I couldn't find her medications at the house, so being logical, I figured out where they were. I took the phone off the hook at the house, got her car keys, which are on a separate key chain than her school keys, drank three beers, and left for the high school at 9 p.m. Leaving the keys locked and turned on in her car, I used a paper clip and file to open the door to the cafeteria.
Oh, all alarms with any security company have a universal key code that looks like the default code.
I found her medications, took 20 Ambien and six Xanax. With the alcohol in my system, the total combo should have killed me. I felt the chest pains, the shortness of breath, my face smashing against the metal table and the top of my skull catching the edge. I remember Kell, a friend of my brother, helping me, but not really. Ten hours later, I am in a hospital, talking to a man who looks like my father through glazed eyes, wanting to have the foley out of me. I got checked out of the hospital, never went to jail, stayed on Halidol for a weekend, and had my life ripped by the statements of a man who was in bed and not present when all this occurred, and read a report, and not a medical report, and an unnamed source at the junior high who had a grudge or link to me.
Now, when it comes to it, no measure could have stopped me that night. When it comes to those who want death, they will do what it takes to get it.
My actions were not a prank, an attempt to get attention, or an act of insurrection. I was at the high school for more than seven hours, yet no property was stolen, removed, or taken. Strange how that was not mentioned.
In ending, I have told what has needed to be told. Not in anger, but in peace. Not as fun, but allows me to live with myself. I thank the Enquirer for telling what needed to be told, nothing else. I am not proud of what I have done, but when it comes to it, I can finally begin to live my life for me, and no one else. I have taken responsibility for my actions, all of them. No lies, just truth. I can live without fear and away from the half truths.