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Vigilante Girls

Me, my sister and three friends sometimes watch reality homicide shows together. I was the first one to get into watching the series’ about police work and forensic sciences. When I started talking about how I enjoyed these shows, and learned so much about police work, the four of them became fans as well.

My name is Monique, my twin sister is Martine and our three friends are Carol, Barbara and Nancy. We frequently gathered together at one’s home or another for our ‘Homicide Evenings’. We enjoyed “The First 48 hours”, “Dark Waters of Crime” and “Deadly Encounters”. We began to notice that women were almost always the victims of cruelty, torture and murder. Most often they were young women, sometimes older women, married women, frequently mothers. Of course, women living high-risk lives were most frequently victims. This would be party girls, drug addicts and prostitutes.

I admit, we often fantasized about getting even with the guys who did this stuff. Maybe abuse guys who abuse women and children. It was just idle talk, letting off steam. After all, we couldn’t actually do anything. All five of us come from families that are quite high on the net worth scale. We didn’t really want for anything growing up. We’ve known each other since we were eight. We met at the exclusive Schiestmiester Boarding School we went to in Switzerland.

We were still friends when we entered the same university, one of the most desirable Ivy League schools. In university, we did most everything together. We chipped in on lottery tickets; we lived off campus in a four bedroom house that was convenient to school. We even went on vacations together. Of course there were men in and out of our lives along the way. We’re not lesbians. We all usually have lovers but none of us felt drawn into marriage with any of our dates.

We all did well. I’m a PhD in chemistry, Martine is a surgeon, Carol is a marine biologist, Barbara is a playwright and Nancy is a sculptor. When we could schedule evenings for us to all get together, we did so to watch, enjoy, and study the real life homicide and forensic shows. During our relaxing coffee times, we tossed around ideas on what we might have done had we been in the law enforcement group investigating each of the cases we watched.

Speaking for myself, it began to eat at me that there were so many cases of women being beaten time and again by the man they love. The same man who claimed to love in return. It was like a rage within me. It grew slowly and steadily as more and more frequently we’d see women treated like chattel or trash. Video of the crime scene fills the television screen. There might be a young woman lying stark naked beside a highway, blood flowing from the hole in her head down over her nose to drip on the dirt roadside. In another case, an older woman is strangled to death in her garage after she is raped by three different men. I resolved to speak to the girls at our next homicide evening and ask for a discussion on the state of women’s safety.

I asked for the next gathering to be at my place and everyone agreed. It was six days later before we were all available, and that suited me perfectly. It gave me time to prepare a surprise presentation.

(to be continued)

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