I can only imagine that she is lying on a narrow bed in a jail cell, glazed and sleepless eyes staring at the ceiling. Not knowing her reasons, or anything about her life other than what has been reported as the facade presented to the world, I am left to speculate only that she must have been in terrible pain and turmoil, pain and turmoil that has now deepened into something unfathomable.
Several of my friends have commented that we have a double standard for situations in which one spouse or lover kills the other. With men, we wonder how swiftly and completely we can punish them; with women, we wonder what terrible underlying distress caused them to act? Perhaps the real double standard is that we ascribe rage to men and anguish to women with the same thoughtlessness with which we consign boys to blue and girls to pink.
What is Mary Winkler thinking? Can she even formulate coherent thoughts?
Will I ever hold my girls again?
Will the older girls remember me? Will my baby even know who I am?
What will their lives be like? Who will guide them? What kind of women will they become, besides women who must live with the knowledge that their mother killed their father?
Have I protected them? Or ruined them?
How did I go from being the Perfect Wife and Mother with a Lovely Home to an accused felon in red-and-white stripes trapped in these four walls, possibly for the rest of my life?
There was a better solution. What was it and why did I not see it?