"Freedom for Wife Killer"

In 1976 Charles Friedgood was convicted of killing his wife with an overdose of Demerol. The NY Times had recent interviews with Charles Friedgood (Relationship With His Children, Remorse and Dying in Prison and His Crimes). Friedgood, suffering from his third bout with cancer, was the oldest prisoner in the NY state prison system.

Now among the trivia I seem to remember about the case was that after injecting his wife multiple times to kill her he spent the night turning her body to alter the lividity (change in coloration due to blood settling) to make the time of death seem later.

The other trivia associated with the case involve his signing his wife's death certificate, quickly burying her out of state, and being arrested at the airport with $500,000 in a bag as he was on his way to Denmark to join his long term mistress with the two children he'd fathered. A real sweetheart.

My reading of the excerpts of the interviews is that he still hasn't admitted his crime. I'm a retrograde type who thinks that a reasonable sentence for premeditated murder is a bullet to the back of the head. (In contrast to the method used in China I don't believe that the family of the criminal should pay for the bullet. I think that we the people should be willing to cover the cost. Lawyers will explain that all premeditated murders are not the same. Mental state, intent, intellectual capacity, etc. are all important before the law, but, me? I don't give a rip. If someone could ask me if the person who killed me should be shot in the head, I'd prefer something more painful and brutal, but then I'm not likely to be asked or my wishes heeded. So if it comes to it, after relations and friends have had their say, please refer this column to the jury.)

Not being in the People's Democratic Republic, the NY prison system had to decide what to do with an old guy with terminal cancer sporting a colostomy bag. The result seems to be to foist him into the VA system so the rest of the country is helping to foot the bill until he dies.

A few years ago, Amy Fisher (the "Long Island Lolita") wrote a column in the predecessor to the Long Island Press about an elderly man who probably chose an abortive career as a bank robber. (I could not find the column. If someone does, I'd appreciate the link because Amy Fisher's columns were usually well written and heartfelt.) In Fisher's analysis, he realized that he had no real prospects after being suckered out of his money by a younger woman. An unsuccessful life of crime would open prison doors and guaranteed medical care.

It's an option more of us might need to consider.

A Phenomenon: The Winning Applicant

For two months now my department has been looking for "instructional technologists". I haven't looked at the ad for the job description, but my feeling was that the motley crew which comprises the department would know what we wanted when we saw it.

Yesterday we saw her.

The director had not yet arrived when I got there. The several there (attendance wasn't mandatory) were discussing a distance learning program. The head of the team on which the successful applicant would be working, finally said, "We might as well get started."

In my expected role of the go-for-the-jugular (lite) I said, "Ok, let's get her!" Not a flinch. Just a smile. And great posture.

(My tone made it clear that I wasn't serious. However, everyone but the applicant knew I'd been warned by the director that if I sandbagged another applicant I might lose my interviewing privileges. On the web I'd discovered a a previous candidate's poorly designed PowerPoint presentation. During the interview I asked that candidate to comment on the merits of her presentation. She was obviously startled, but in my estimation, she not only showed animation for the first time in the interview, but also demonstrated really good analytic skills.

My co-workers have never seen me really go for the jugular. Honestly, though, as savage as I was in my prime, I was only a pale imitation of my role models. But I stray.)

Back to the matters at hand: after the interview each of us said that we'd decided within minutes that the job was her's to lose. She had me by mentioning NPR, Mark Morris, and her mimicking students who wanted to learn more about math. Some were enchanted by a small spontaneous psychodrama wherein she worked her magic on a grumpy prof (played by the guy who would be her team leader). Some were enamored by her ability to express herself openly, honestly, and clearly.

When later we described the interview to those who weren't there, we each in our own way said, you should have been there. It was a great experience. This was indeed a rare thing.

The next day, the director called an assembly of the multitude to review the applicants and decide which could be eliminated, which should be offered positions, and which were told that we were still making a decision.

Because I would have to leave early I said: "Emily. Rah! Rah! Rah!"

The director looked around the table. All those who'd been at Emily's interview nodded in agreement. Now we have to hope she'll take the job. (One of her uncles works for the department. We wondered if we could get more like her from the family tree.)