The prisoners where my brother lived called the seagull that got caught in the razor wire surrounding the compound Broken Wing. After a few hours of being trapped Broken Wing wriggled out of the wire and dropped onto the ground, hurt and exhausted. The bird survived on scraps of bread tossed to him by prisoners who had snuck it out of the mess hall for the lame creature. In spite of his damaged wing Broken Wing defended his little area from other birds that wanted him gone. He’d drag his wing behind him as he chased the stronger birds away from his home. Inmates would often sit and watch Broken Wing and marvel at how well he was healing.
As the bird got better he would eye the other end of the prison yard as though he was contemplating the day he could fly away. He took several runs across the compound to test his wing, but wasn’t ready to take flight. The convicts rooted for Broken Wing and found joy in watching him heal. Some of the prison guards resented the fact that the bird brought happiness to people they deemed unworthy and so, just as Broken Wing was ready to take off, the guards cut his throat. There are times when it seems the answer to prayer is a cut throat.
God could have saved Rick from the nightmare, but he didn’t. The reason is far greater than I can wrap my mind around. Truth is often that way. The person who claimed my brother molested her was given a medical exam and the records show she wasn’t telling the truth. The medical records in this case reveal a great deal about what didn’t happen. My brother did not do what he was accused of doing. It would have been more humane for his throat to have been cut than what became of him because of false allegations. This experience has been devastating. The loss never leaves me. How the loss came about haunts me.
There should be a registry for those who falsely accuse a person of sexual abuse. They are a danger to everyone who comes in contact with them.