VICTORIA – Given half a chance, I’d blow Clifford Olson’s head off. And that scares the hell out of me, because I consider myself a non-violent man. I’m against the death penalty. A contradiction? I don’t think so.
While I would not hesitate a moment to snuff out the miserable life of Clifford Olson, I would not want to empower the state to legally kill any of its citizen, no matter how deserved their death.
I shouldn’t even be writing about this mass murderer, because the current publicity surrounding his application for early parole is unfolding according to Olson’s own, carefully scripted plan.
Why then am I writing this? Good question. The closest I can come to an answer is because I’m madder than hell. And because there won’t be any closure to the wounds Olson has inflicted not only on his victims and their families, but on the soul of the nation, until the son of a bitch is dead and rotting.
Everybody knows Olson’s chances of ever getting out of prison are slimmer than the proverbial snowball’s in hell. The judge knows it, the jury knows it, Olson knows it.
The first day of the hearing, he said himself that no jury would parole him. And the witnesses he called told the jury he shouldn’t be considered for early parole. A psychologist who did a profile on Olson even said he considers him ore dangerous today than 16 years ago.
The so-called faint-hope clause was brought in to give those people a chance at early parole who have a genuine chance of being rehabilitated. It was never designed for the likes of Olson.
In the meantime, the clause has been amended to prevent multiple murderers from applying for early parole, but the amendment couldn’t be made retroactive to apply to Olson.
So, here he is, back in British Columbia, the scene of his unspeakable crimes, grandstanding and tormenting the families of his victims. His arguments for early release are as sick as his psychopathic mind.
He says wants to help find the bodies of dozens of other victims he lays claim to, so they can have a "Christian burial." By telling the jury he is even sicker than anyone believes, he thinks he should be eligible for parole.
Everything Olson does serves to make him feel powerful. His ability to manipulate was his most powerful instrument during his rampage 16 years ago, and it still is.
Journalist Peter Worthington, who has interviewed Olson on numerous occasions, said the trappings of the hearing play right into Olson’s hands. The heavy guard, the bullet-proof glass behind which he sits, the shackles, they all reinforce his own image of himself as what he calls the "Beast of B.C."
Worthington said Olson would be furious if the was guarded by only one sheriff and spoke to an empty courtroom, instead of one packed with spectators and reporters. He would feel cheated.
It is to be hoped that this will be the last time we have to listen to Olson’s sick ramblings, the last time his victims’ families will be tormented, the last time this excuse for a human being can pull the strings of the justice system like those of a marionette.
For the families the terrible pain will never cease, but at the very least, they should be assured that they will never have to go through another Olson-orchestrated spectacle again.
It’s too bad that Olson can’t be left with the general prison population for a few minutes, because his fellow inmates would quickly render their own justice.
In the meantime, many Canadians, myself included, have to confront the demons in themselves that, given the chance, would not let them hesitate to kill Olson in cold blood. And that is Olson’s crime against all of us.