An Open Letter to My Father’s Murderer
Dear Christopher Green,
It has been 24 years since the day you decided to rob more than just a post office. You robbed 4 men of their lives. You robbed 4 families of the life they had planned. You robbed your family. You robbed yourself.
I am the same age now that you were when you walked into the Watchung Plaza post office, shot 5 men, killing 4 and taking off with $5,000. You were 29 years old. You were so, so young. I often stop and think of you. I cannot imagine at my age of 29 years old being slammed with a life prison sentence. You had so much life left to live. But to be honest, my curiosity towards you has been around for years. I think mostly because you were the last person to see and hear my father alive. Christopher Green, what were his last words? What did he say to you? Did you even hesitate? Did you honestly think the 5 lives you destroyed that day were worth the money?
Now you live in a shoebox sized prison cell that you call home. I go back and forth and back and forth…I feel sorry for you, but then I don’t. I forgive you, but then I can’t. My brain processes these thoughts like a seesaw, and it’s emotionally exhausting. I think most days that you deserve this prison life, you had control over what you did, you planned these murders. YOU KNEW it was wrong. How could you look them in the eye and do this to them? To my dad who you knew, to his co-worker who you knew, to the innocent customers just trying to mail their letters/packages after wrapping up a day at work. But then I think how awful the conditions must be for you in prison…you poor thing. The food must be so gross, you must be so cold at night and that metal bed frame with a thin mattress…it must be so incredibly uncomfortable. But then I think, neither was the floor you made everyone lay down on before you shot 5 innocent men. That floor was cold and uncomfortable, too.
I have so many unanswered questions for you. I have pondered writing to you, visiting you, but instead I just read newspaper clippings that were published from all over the country and listen to stories from those who were close to my dad. I constantly wonder what do you think about at night? And do you wake up every day with regret? Do you even know I exist? Do you know what you stole from me that day? What you stole from my dad? My mom? My Sister? My Brother? How will I explain this to my kids when they are older? That is the hardest one of all. My kids. You know my dad’s grandkids that he never got to meet. But let’s not forget how much of MY life he missed, you stole my father from me before I could even graduate from kindergarten. And now my oldest son is approaching the same age I was when you took my dad's life. Mentally, I am not OK. I struggle DAILY with the anxiety of fear of death. You did this to me, Christopher Green. But nothing and no matter what I do will ever strip these fears away from me. Do you know how many times I think about the thought of my husband or myself dying and leaving my kids with no parent? Every. Single. Day. Because you see, Christopher Green, you were not the only one who was handed a life prison sentence. At the age of 5 I also received a life sentence of mental pain and anguish of the terrible thoughts and fears of losing loved ones or leaving my loved ones.
I dread the month of March. March 21st is a hard day for my entire family. Is it hard for you too, Christopher Green? Did you wake up today wishing you could go back and get a re-do of March 21, 1995? I know I did. But I woke up today FREE. And you did not. So I will honor my father today and every day by celebrating life just as he would – with music, laughter and love. He was so damn loved. I am told he had a personality larger than life. He is so damn missed. I will hold my kids tight like I do every day and I will tell those around me how much they mean to me because there a lot of evil monsters out there. Are you a monster, Christopher Green?
It has been 24 years since the day you decided to rob more than just a post office. You robbed 4 men of their lives. You robbed 4 families of the life they had planned. You robbed your family. You robbed yourself.
You robbed me.
Sincerely,
Scott Walensky’s Broken Hearted Daughter
