I know what you are.
August 10, 2026

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HATE. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO HATE YOU SINCE I BEGAN TO LIVE.

I found the Substack of the man who drove drunk and killed a member of my community, a friend.
A piece of me tells me to let it alone, that love is everything, that's what she would say.
The rest of me loathes him. Loathes that he was released on bond the day after he murdered an innocent woman. That he went back to posting his little articles in mere days. And that he hasn't. stopped.
I made an anonymous account and at least forced him to delete the account tied to his full name by making it clear to him that I knew who he was. Not like it was hard, his full name was right there. His full name was also on his LinkedIn, which has a public resume with his full street address. I told him to stop posting. He didn't listen very clearly, as he seemingly can't shut the fuck up, but at least now it's in a slightly more detached place; less likely her family, her boyfriend who he also hit, or others find this droll.
The most appalling article was one called "Sometimes There Aren't Words Big Enough." He says he might as well not atone for his sins because there's 'nothing he can say that would make it better.' Oh, how brave of you. He says that apologizing would make his 'empathy' performative. Hey, buddy. Writing this fucking self-serving article makes your empathy performative.
His mentions are vague. "My mental health," "circumstances outside of my control," "parts of my life that are still unfolding."
I hope you go to prison and rot. It seems to be the only way to get you to stop waxing poetic about killing a young woman like it's your own, personal tragedy.

I know her family will give you grace. You don't deserve it.

sincerely, chase.