The Gavel
Inspired by the Story of the Milwaukee Monster
(With a small fraction excerpted from In the Grip of Grace)
This is about what a ‘famous’ actor in the great theater of life taught me about life. I entitled this sharing The Gavel, and I’ll begin with a story. Before I start, I’ll be willing to offer you one kind reminder: fasten your seatbelts, please. It’s going to be a bit thrilling.
This is Jeffrey Lionel Dahmer, a man who died at age 34, and who lived with such ‘intelligence’ that simply could not go unnoticed. His life, if it is to be described, was disturbing. He made such a bustle with his seemingly short 34 years that no one, at least no human being who deem themselves as perfectly sane, would walk away from his story without feeling either earth-shattering, mind-boggling, thought-provoking, or simply, stomach-churning. He is generally called and known by the name ‘the Milwaukee Monster’, or, ‘Milwaukee Cannibal’.
Honestly speaking, I was profoundly disturbed by his story. My entire being was simply thrown into a chaotic disorder after reading through just a minute fraction of it. May I share with you what disturbed me the most about Mr. Dahmer?
What disturbed me most was not his acts, though they are disgusting. Mr. Dahmer was convicted of seventeen murders. His first murder was committed at age 18; in which, he lured a hitchhiker to his house, bludgeoned him and strangled him to death with a dumbbell, had some form of sexual intercourse with the dead young man, and then dismembered him and disposed the corpse in one of the two forms of burnt ash or tissues dissolved by chemical substances. This incident marked the commencement of his savage industry.
All his victims were either men or boys; murdered, raped, and dismembered in his accommodation. The reason why they were chosen, according to Mr. Dahmer, was that he was attracted by their physique. When the police finally caught him, fourteen years later after so many sacrileges, and began to conduct thorough investigation on him, they found eleven corpses in his apartment. Vivid evidence was left at the crime scene. As a man who was fascinated with the dissection of carcasses since early childhood, he maintained the habit to cut off the victims’ body parts - the only difference to him was that they were human this time. He saved some for consumption. There may be over two hundred synonyms for the word devious, but each proves inadequate of describing a man who kept skulls in his refrigerator and hoarded human hearts. The skulls were drilled while the victims were still alive, and were injected with hydrochloric acid or hot water, in order to paralyze the preys, according to Mr. Dahmer. This man redefined the boundary for brutality. The Milwaukee Monster “dangled from the lowest rung of human conduct” and then continued to drop. But that’s not what troubled me most.
Do you want to know what troubled me most about Mr. Dahmer? Not his trial. "...as disturbing as it was, with all those pictures of him sitting serenely in court, face frozen, motionless. No sign of remorse, no hint of regret." Take a look at those steely eyes and that impassive face. This was a man that knew not the difference between an object and a human, and thus inhumane. But it is not his trial that sinks my heart. There is another reason. May I tell you what troubled me most about Mr. Dahmer?
Not his punishment, "though life without parole is hardly an exchange for his actions. How many years would satisfy justice?" A lifetime in jail for every innocent life he took? Certainly not enough for me, but that’s not what troubled me most about Mr. Dahmer.
Let me tell you what did.
His conversion.
Several months before he was beaten to death by his schizophrenic inmate in prison, Jeffrey Dahmer, the Milwaukee Cannibal, said he found a new life, a new hope. He said he repented and he was sorry; profoundly sorry for whatever offenses he’d ever made. He became a professed Christian; was baptized; started his life all over again. Imagine him smiling with such a smile, so gentle and sweet, just like when we found the biggest happiness in our lives. Imagine the face of this once Mr. Cannibal displaying some senses and even kindness. Imagine him saying, “If a person doesn't think that there is a God in the universe to be accountable to, then what's the point of trying to modify your behavior to keep it within acceptable ranges? That's how I thought anyway.” Imagine him, after being bullied by fellow prisoners, comforting his mom, who was weeping sorrowfully in the phone call, “It doesn't matter, Mom. I don't care if something happens to me.” He was still imprisoned, yet it looked like his sins were washed, soul cleansed, past forgiven, and freedom found.
That troubled me. Should it? No. Yet it did. Hope for a cannibal? I know maybe I shouldn’t even be questioning this, because I myself am not a clean sheet of paper. But maybe at most, I could be counted as an average sinner? Yet Mr. Dahmer is another different story. He was definitely a deviant! Hmmm… ever wondered whether grace and hope have a scope limitation? Well, it seems there is, but who’s to decide who’s deserving and who’s not?
The story of Mr. Dahmer suddenly ceased to be disturbing once I found that I myself was being the judge. All the discomfort and unease resulted from the fact that in my heart, I had already sentenced him to eternal damnation. And this was not the first and probably will not be the last time I try to hold the gavel in my hand.
In fact, we all do, don’t we? Maybe a hundred times per day will not sound exaggerating. ‘Ugh, look at the way she matches her clothes. She’ll never know what fashion is.’ ‘Have you heard the salary he gets every month? That future doesn’t sound prospective.’ ‘Did you hear his response? Such a weirdo.’ And sometimes, the judgements are on ourselves. ‘This is who I am, and I’ll just live with it.’
Bang! Bang! Bang! We hear the gavel coming down with a huge whack. Judgement made, ending determined, case closed. We might not hear these with our ears, but we certainly know them by heart. In fact, some of us will not - and we cannot- forget the helplessness, emptiness, and even hopelessness we felt at the moments we thought of the very possible absence of hope our future might entail because of all those overwhelming judgments we found ourselves in, from within and without. Yet every time, we chose to cover those emotions up by putting on our social masks. We chose to bury the once-fervent longing and desire deep within for what’s bigger, better, and more lasting, and settle for the less.
There is an old saying that goes, “Never judge a book by its cover.” And another, “Never judge a story until you finish it.” Our stories are not finished yet.Your story is not finished yet, and I know yours is going to be a very beautiful one. So slow down your pace, my dear friend. Don't jump to the conclusion too quickly. Don't whack that gavel. No, not yet. Lay it off and sit back for a second. Think of the Milwaukee Monster, and remember, there is no limitation to hope.
Let's be hopeful.
