An open letter to Casey Anthony


Dear Casey:

You don’t know me. Likewise, I’m sure. I consider myself lucky.

I’ve never written to a (now vindicated by a jury) defendant in a murder case or any other defendant for that matter. I don’t know a single (or married) person who has been accused of killing his or her own child and I haven’t written a letter in years. Ask my parents.

But you know what? Between Nancy Grace (whose demeanor irritates me to no end and whose voice just grates on me like nobody’s business) and the national media, you have gotten way too much attention. You don’t deserve it. You’re what, 25 years old? As far as I can see, there is little or nothing you have done or accomplished in your young life so far that merits this kind of ghoulish fascination from anyone. Not even your parents. I’d write a letter to them too, but I have word limits here.

Look. It’s not up to me to decide whether you got away with murdering your little girl Caylee or not. It’s up to me to decide that I’m not interested in reading a book you may be asked to “write” that will explain in full detail what you were (or weren’t) thinking before, during or after this tragedy took place. You know what? I don’t care. Your daughter is dead. Read that again. Dead. You cost the state and taxpayers of Florida a lot of money and once again proved why this state is considered to be nuttier and fruitier than a box of organic muesli. You have singlehandedly managed to make California seem almost “normal.”

If there is a publisher out there willing to pay for your “story” and an audience that is willing to buy it (including Hollywood), it will only prove one thing: that we are collectively guilty of mass stupidity. We should be sentenced to reading real books.

You may have been found “not guilty” by a jury, but you also seem to exhibit no shame or remorse whatsoever.

Shame on all of us for giving you national attention.

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