These people were not born to kill. If they are criminals, then it must be of a special kind. Victims of their own fantasies and illusions, they are foremost refugees of love. You see, women are our dearest possessions. All cultures are based on their circulation between groups. They are the ultimate gift. Ask any father. Since the dawn of times, women were traded in different sets of rules so as to ensure continuity in our existence. We depend on them. You killed one, and this is why society is after you.

Should your alleged offence be decriminalized? I cannot speak on behalf of society. I, for one, believe it is a difficult matter. But I consider it my duty to watch after your sort. And so do Mr. Recker and his wife. We put ourselves at risk so as to give people like you a decent living, a second chance.

But the rest is up to you. Your task is heavy: speculate on the hidden motivations of your deeds, invent punishment, seek salvation. As you will see, you will get a tremendous amount of support. Think how to deal with the horrendous feelings of guilt assailing you. Share your experience with others, learn from their own.

Feel free to partake in the workshops. You will find the schedule of the activities on the announcement board, near the entrance. It is updated on a weekly basis. As for me, I’ll be seeing you once in a while. If you need anything, let me know. I’m at your service. Good luck."

I didn’t go to the workshops, nor did I open my heart to Dr. Kustel. I had done my thinking, there was nothing to say. No use for peer support, I deemed myself indulgent enough. I had loved you for all the wrong reasons. I didn’t want to betray you over and over again.

What Dr. Kustel had said was true. I found myself among twelve ghosts with very similar stories, coping with a murderous past in their own way. But, unlike he had stated, I didn’t see courageous individuals who had chosen the path of redemption by their own means. True, we were eschewing the authorities, but only to secure the remnants of a supposed dignity. We were cowards, that’s what. Champions of screwed love formulas. Masters in love going amiss, love that turns into hatred and murder. How could anyone be of any use to another?