I was waiting for the huge mea cupla moment where he reflects on his childhood and shows real remorse for all the horrible things he did, but crickets. He spends more time regaling on his childhood exploits, as if proud of them. Sure, he feels bad about locking his mother out of the house after she returned from the hospital, but he spends a sentence on it. The victim of the two cars wrecked by him launching a truck tire down a hill? Nothing. The drunk victims of all his cherry bombs he put next to their bodies? They could have lost fingers or eyes. He has yet to show any remorse for any of the victims of his pranks as a child, some extremely dangerous and potentially deadly. You should be motivated by not wanting to hurt people and being remorseful about hurting people in the past. I’m sorry, but that’s insufficient for me. It seems the only reason he has lived the straight and narrow since his childhood is fear. Let me just say, I’m not entirely convinced the author is morally enlightened here, and I’ll explain. Hello, is there a statue of limitations on aiding and abetting a possible homicide by helping bury the body? Can someone look into this and get back to me? I’ll have to say, I read this book all the way through in a couple nights, because I come from a similar dysfunctional family, and just like my tendency to be drawn to messed up people and Jerry Springer episodes, I couldn’t pull myself away.
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