FYI: This post contains a few cuss words, totally appropriate for the topic.
Seeing death so frequently in my job has taught me to value life. Death doesn’t care if you are 7 days old or 103 years old. Death doesn’t care what color your skin is, your sexual identity, your religion, or your family background. It affects all of us the same. But we never know when death will strike.
I have lost close friends and coworkers and family members.
But I never dreamed I’d come close to loosing my identical twin sister. It is
one of those things I assumed we would always be around for each other. But
January 23, 2018, she should have died (by all human perspectives) when a then
coworker shot her twice in the back of her head. She held the back of her head
with her hands in an attempt to control bleeding, while he took a baton and
beat the s#@% out of her hands causing multiple fractures in two fingers. Then
he left her alone, probably thinking she wouldn’t survive much longer, went
outside and killed himself. This tells me that regardless of the type of life
anybody thought he was living, he was absolutely a selfish bastard and pansy.
There are so many questions swarming my brain, even today,
that will likely always go unanswered. Evidence and circumstances prior to this
tell me this was something he had planned for several months. He went to TWO
family members that day and told them he was going to kill himself. They did
nothing. Several months prior to this event, he posted this on his FB page, “if
its got fur….I can kill it…if its female….i shoot it twice to be sure.” I
understand that doesn’t say he’s suicidal or homicidal. But if one of my
friends posted something like that, I would be all over them making sure they
were ok. If nothing else, that raises a massive red flag. And, that’s exactly
what he did.
What could have been happening in his life that was so
horrible, that he not only would want to take his own life, but he wanted to
destroy the life of someone he claimed was his best friend? He told her that he
had cancer for the second time and convinced her to move from Tulsa to Miami,
OK into the apartment complex owned by his family, in order to help him fight
his cancer battle. But she never saw any paperwork or medications from a doctor
that one would normally have if they were truly battling cancer. She was never
allowed to go to his appointments or treatments, but he would request to use
her car to get there. He had told her he
was in the military, but told her not to talk about it with his family because
they hadn’t known about it. That’s a red flag because someone will know. Seems
to me he tried to be someone he wasn’t.
Maybe he had PTSD as an EMT. Most first responders who have
been in the field for any length of time have symptoms of PTSD to one degree or
another. But can PTSD really make someone plan a murder/suicide for months
ahead of time?
What happened the week before, the day before, even minutes
leading up to him deciding to follow through with his plan? Did they have a
fight? Maybe a difficult call on the ambulance? Family troubles? Was the family
business going down hill? She doesn’t remember. She may never remember. But
what would cause anyone to have that much hate to decide to do something so
The doctors said she wasn’t supposed to survive her
injuries. She was intubated in the ambulance and had a seizure on the way to
the hospital. She also had a stroke, a skull fracture, and a head bleed. She’s
had multiple surgeries on her fingers to repair the fractures and still goes to
physical therapy for her hands. Less than a month after getting out of the
hospital, which she was only there for 8 days, she walked a 5k. She continues
to deal with seizures, headaches, dizziness, moderate hearing loss, extreme
exhaustion, as well as PTSD, anxiety, and depression. She’s lost her job, her
independence, her car and driving privileges. She has fought for everything she
I almost lost my
Twinny because of some asshole’s selfishness. That wasn’t the first time I’ve
been in a hospital room watching my twin laying in a hospital bed in pain, nor
was it the first time she could have died from an event, but this was the most
critical and the most evil. It rips my heart into pieces when I’ve had to watch
my twin lie there in pain.
How do I deal with it? I talk about it, write about it, be angry, ask my questions that I know will more than likely always go unanswered. I ignore it, bury it, think about it, pray about it, and then talk about it some more. But I’ve learned I’m careful about who I talk to about it, not everyone wants to listen. Yes, it was my twin sister’s traumatic experience, but trauma always effects more than just the intended target. Always.