Casey Anthony

The recent trial and acquittal of Casey Anthony has sparked much opinion and outrage in both the media and the world of social networking. Typically I don’t participate too much in sharing my views of such things. However, the longer this goes on and the more I read from those who think they know what happened to Caylee (and subsequently what Casey deserves), I’m making an exception and sharing my two cents.

Without question, the entire situation is tragic. Anytime a child dies, no matter the circumstances, it’s a sad and terrible event. In this case, we do not know exactly what happened. We do not know if Casey murdered her daughter. In the midst of the outcry following the verdict, my brother posted this on Facebook, which I believe hits the nail on the head, “For all of you sitting in judgment of the Anthony family or anyone else whom you may hold contempt for, you don't know what happened, you don't really know the people involved. You have been taken in by this world and by the great reality show our media has made out of very important things. I have 2 very simple and straight forward words for you...Stop It!”

You may have watched some of the trial, you may have watched every news report available and listened to every commentator give their opinion, but it does not get any more simple than this fact: you do not know what happened. You may think you know. You may have your opinion, but it does not change the fact that you cannot say with certainty that Casey Anthony killed her daughter, intentionally or unintentionally.

Even if you sat in the courtroom and watched every moment of the trial (which I’m guessing most of you did not), you still would not know. From what a couple of the jurors have indicated, even they couldn’t say she was innocent, but rather there just was not enough evidence to convict her of murder.

It appears that a lot of the state’s case rested on Casey’s behavior and general demeanor after her daughter went missing. From what I have read on Facebook, Twitter, and blogs, it also appears that is the main reason many observers have found her guilty as well. Of course this was not the state’s only evidence and it’s not the only reason many people hold her in contempt and judgment, but it is the primary reason. Many of us cannot fathom how she could have gone dancing, partying, and engaging life as normal in the midst of such a horrific time. However, this is not sufficient evidence for us to indict her and pronounce her guilty. We all respond to stress and trauma differently. We live in a world where people act out in ways that we consider strange, sick, odd, or just plain weird. Does Casey’s behavior seem unusual for someone whose daughter is missing? Absolutely. Do I understand how someone could act the way she did during that time? No way. But does that mean she is guilty of murder? Absolutely not. There are other plausible explanations for why she acted the way she did, including a result of bipolar disorder.

Lastly, there is a judge that rules much higher than our court system. He knows exactly how Caylee died, exactly who is responsible, and He will judge as He sees fit. I’m referring of course to God. The creator God who sees and knows everything. I believe with every fiber of my being that God knows what happened and that He is just. He sees all the injustice that goes on all around the world. In fact, the bible describes God as “Him who judges justly.” IF Casey did kill her daughter and got away with it in our legal system, it does not mean justice will not be served. God is the ultimate judge and He will do so in His timing.

Before you put words in my mouth, I’m not saying that we should not enforce rules and laws and use the court system as it’s designed. I’m simply saying that in this situation, no matter who is responsible for Caylee’s death, take comfort in the fact that one day appropriate justice will be served in one form or another.

Do I think Casey murdered her daughter? The circumstantial evidence certainly indicates that it’s probable, but in the end I do not know. Because I do not know, I will not pronounce her guilty or hold her in contempt for something she may or may not have done.

Reflections of my dad

May 1st, 2002, a little more than nine years ago, this world lost one of the most extraordinary men that most people will ever have the privilege of knowing. Many people had the opportunity to know him as a friend, a brother, a co-worker, a grandfather, a husband, or a son, but I had the best privilege of all,  knowing him as my dad.

As with most people that pass on from this life to the next, there are
times we usually remember and think about them more than others. As another Father’s Day approaches, I have spent a considerable amount of time this week thinking about my dad and reflecting on what it was that made him so special. I recognize that people have a tendency to glorify loved ones that have passed away, especially as more time passes, and even more so with their fathers. It’s a natural process as it’s easier to remember the positive things we loved about that person rather than the negative. However, what I’m about to share is not an exaggeration or glorification. Tom Holden was not perfect. Like any man he had his weaknesses and shortcomings, but there are many out there who will agree with me that he was among the elite when it came to being a friend, husband, brother, pepa, co-worker, son, and especially a father.

So what was it that made him so special? While I’m certain others can answer that question differently, I can only answer it from my
perspective as his son. There are several specific characteristics
that stick out as I think about what set him apart from other men.

First of all, he loved his kids. And I don’t mean he generally loved
us. He absolutely and unashamedly loved his three boys. But he didn’t just love us, he made sure we knew there was no doubt as to how much he loved us. Unlike other men, he not only expressed his love verbally, but he backed that up day in and day out with his actions. For example, he wanted to spend time with us. He (most of the time) actually enjoyed playing with and spending time with his kids. It was not something he did for show, but simply because he loved us and treasured us as his children. Whether it was board games at little kids, basketball, baseball, or football as older children and teenagers, or meeting him for lunch on his lunch hour as we were able to drive, he looked forward to and enjoyed spending time together. He was also affectionate with my brothers and me. Except on the rare occasion when he happened to be out of town, I don’t remember a day passing when he didn’t hug me at least once during the day. Being affectionate that way was not strange, weird, or embarrassing. It was simply another expression of the tremendous love he had for us.

Another characteristic that made him so special was the selfless
person that he was. As men, it feels like we are born with this innate
selfishness that plagues us throughout our lives. It’s no secret that
as a whole, men are generally selfish, often times putting themselves before other people. If Tom Holden dealt with that battle of selfishness, I would have never have known, for he almost always put other people before himself. When Todd and I were in high school, the possibility came up for both of us to transfer to a private school. Part of the ongoing discussion of whether we would transfer to the private school was the cost, and one of the potential solutions was for dad to pick up a second job. He was willing to do that, simply because he loved us and showed his love in selfless ways. He lived that out. He modeled for us what it meant to put other people first and yourself second. Whether he wanted them or not, he ALWAYS gave me the pickles from his Big Mac. The last piece of Little Caesars pizza always went to someone else. It didn’t matter if it involved little things or big things, it’s just the way he was. Even when he was sick and did not have long to live, he didn’t want people to be inconvenienced by his illness. One specific time, after a particularly difficult day for him or bad report from the doctor, I was talking to mom on the telephone about the specifics of how he was doing. As she was telling me, I overheard him tell her, “tell that boy not to come down here.” I was living in North Carolina at the time, twelve hours away by car, and he did not want me to be inconvenienced by him being sick. He was the most selfless man I have ever known.

Dad showed us what it meant to be both humble and gracious. This was not something that he taught us verbally, but something he lived out day to day. I do not ever remember him acting like he was better than someone else. I don’t remember him calling people names, being hateful to others, or generally making fun of people. Realistically, I have no doubts he got frustrated with people, but he didn’t fly off the handle and let them have it or treat them in a way that was rude, ugly, or insulting, even to those who probably deserved it. Of all the friends that we brought home over the years, he was always kind to them. All of them. He was simply a humble and gracious man.

All of these characteristics run together in some ways, but something else specific that sticks out in my memory was his patience. One example of what seems like his unlimited patience was the way he taught us different things at different stages of our lives. From teaching us as young boys how to dribble or bounce pass a basketball, to teaching all three of us to play chess, to teaching us how to drive a car as we got older. He could effectively teach us those things because he was patient. Teaching boys with the attention span of a goldfish to play chess is a feat in and of itself, but then actually playing the game with youngins who are just learning the game…can anyone say BORING? But you would have never known he felt that way.

I don’t ever remember him putting us down in front of other people.
Now that I’m an adult, I’m sure he got frustrated with us when we
couldn’t grasp something or didn’t do something the right way. But
again, as a child I never knew that. He never made us feel stupid if
we couldn’t do something quite right or couldn’t understand something fully. Not long after he died, I went back one time and watched one of our homemade videos. This particular video was a baseball game that he recorded when I was in little league. I was up to bat and apparently missed a pitch or struck out or didn’t do something right, and the audio on the video camera picked up his unmistakable sigh of frustration. On one hand I was taken back by it, because he never made us feel bad for striking out or not doing well at something. On the other hand I had to laugh at that instant realization and my naivety. The point is, he never made us feel stupid for not doing well. He supported and encouraged us, no matter how well or badly we happened to be doing. When I played basketball in high school, I didn’t get a lot of actual game time. Do you think that stopped him from coming to every game he could possibly come to? Even though there were games I didn’t even get on the floor, he still showed up, loving and supporting me. There was no question he was proud of his boys.

In addition to all these other areas I’ve mentioned, he had this way
about him of enforcing the rules, but not in the manner of a dictator.
He made very clear what was not acceptable and he did not put up with foolishness. We wore shirts at the dinner table. We didn’t burp or pass gas at the table. He didn’t tolerate us being disrespectful to
mom. There were rules to be followed, and if any of those rules were broken, all it took was a simple look and a verbal “son” to whichever one of us was acting up. Specifically when we were younger, on the occasions that didn’t work, he would fiddle with the buckle on his belt as if here were going to take it off and spank us with it. Oh how we laugh about that to this day. One of the images I’ll never forget is dad fiddling with the buckle on his belt as a threat for us to get our act together. Of course it usually worked, but on the rare occasions that still didn’t do the trick, he would actually take off the belt and give us a good old-fashioned spanking. There were rules. He enforced the rules, but he usually didn’t have to punish us to get us to obey.

There were times when he lost his cool. Who wouldn’t when you’re
dealing with teenagers? We were all disrespectful to him at different
times and occasionally he would get pretty upset with us, but those
times were very few and far between.

Although I didn’t mention this in detail, he was fun. The memories of us all genuinely having fun together are too many too count. What I’ve written about are just a few of the many memories I have of my dad. While many men talk about love, about God, about honesty, about faith, about respect, about commitment, and about values and morals, he actually lived those things out. As a child, I had a sense that not all dads were like my dad, but as an adult, I now know the rarity of men like Tom Holden. I consider myself to be among the most fortunate people in the world to be his son.