The Sable Verity

July 17, 2008

It seems like such a natural stereotype; the angry Black woman. 

I bring up this issue because a lot of people have been asking me in the wake of the James “Jage” Paroline murder, “why are Black women so angry”.  While mulling the complicated answer to that question I stopped over on myspace to check the profiles of the 2 women involved in the initial altercation; one has not been accessed since 2007, but the other, belong to Ebonie Shephard, was logged into today.

On myspace one can pick and display their mood for all to see. What was Ebonie’s mood?

Pissed off.

That of course brought my mind right back to the question, “why are Black women so angry”.

As I said, it’s complicated.

The short answer is that, it’s really easy to get angry and stay angry as a Black woman living in America.  When it comes to the social stratification ladder, we’re at the bottom.

We’re misunderstood and often not in control of our own identity, and we’re being pulled at from every possible direction; family, friends, work, children, self.

We’re the bitch.  Whether it’s Black bitch, or just bitch alone, we’re it.  We’re the welfare queen.  We’re the ho- hell, we’re even the video ho.  We’re the baby mamma.  We’re the maid, and the wash woman, and we’re the cause and solution of everyone else’s problems.

We’re left to handle everything alone.  Oh sure, we might get an encouraging word from friends, but ultimately the weight rests solely on our backs.

It is painful and lonely, and one is constantly feeling that they need to protect themselves.  When you ride the bus, you might bring a book, wear sunglasses or listen to your iPod; all to get folks to get the message “leave me alone”.

Well, the Black woman doesn’t need an iPod, and she damn sure doesn’t need sunglasses.  She has her stoic, even angry facial expressions to convey “get the hell away from me, leave me the hell alone.”

If one is not careful, it can be all consuming and that anger can ultimately block blessings coming our way.  I should know, after all, I am a Black woman, and there are times that I would definately describe myself as an angry Black woman, trying to protect myself from the rest of the world.

That anger can lead to pure, blind, uncontrolable rage, if not checked and checked quickly.

It’s easy for other people to say “get over it”.  Some things we can’t just get over for the sake of getting over.

What I had to realize for myself was that anger was blocking too many other things.

Yeah, so people don’t get what it’s like to be a Black woman here, fine.  But even if I sat down for 100 hours and recounted a million “Black woman” stories, they still wouldn’t get it; so that needs to be moved passed.

We sisters need to support each other more; we need to provide a safe place for the tears, the shouting, the cussing…the anger.  And when that time is over, we need to wipe away our tears, take a deep breath, hold our head high, and walk back out to the world, prepared to give of ourselves, knowing we deserve happiness like anyone else, claiming that happiness, washing ourselves in it every morning and every night.

Black women are phenominal; it’s not just a poem, it is the truth; we are the mother’s of civilization, the cornerstone this country was built on.  We are the riff in jazz and the spice in greens.  We are intellectuals, lovers, dreamers, artists and leaders.  We are the back bone, conscious and soul connection of our men and children.

We have a potential within that once tapped, infiltrates all things, and changes them forever, for the better.

It can be really easy to fall into the mindset that the world is our enemy…but am I an enemy to the world?  No.  I am not.  I am better than that.

It isn’t necessary for me to snap at everyone who crosses my path, who cuts me off with their car on the road, who makes eye contact with me on the street or in the grocery store.  Why feed a tempter?  Why feed anger?  Why immediately assume that all defenses need to be thrown up, when in actuality, they don’t?

I’ve been called a nigger to my face; a Black bitch, right in front of my children, for stupid things like not letting a car force its way into my lane.  The urge to get out of the car and pummel has been there, I’m not going to lie.  The desire to “teach a lesson” flashes before my eyes at times.  The instinct to show that person “I won’t be disrespected” flares.

Depending on what else has hit me that day, the anger may stick around for a while, usually until I get on the phone with someone likeminded and vent it out.

Being the bigger person get’s tiring.  Biting my tongue leaves the taste of blood in my mouth on a regular basis.  But no one ever said that doing the right thing was easy.  So I swollow, and I take it.

When I look at girls like Ebonie Shephard, who are constantly pissed off at the world and expressing that anger with violence, I cringe. 

You are showing the world that you are a dark minded and angry person, and you are showing the world that it should continue to treat you (and by relation, me and every other Black woman) with contempt.  You are feeding the sick cycle of biggotry and hatred.

I learned Joy by watching other joyous women of color in my life; by turning to them, by understanding how they handle the challenges of life as a Black woman.

Now, some may be tempted to think (and submit a comment) or suggest that if we as Black women just “let go” of that who Black woman/color/race thing, maybe it won’t be so tough.

You let go of it. 

It’s just not that easy.  I have said before and will say it again now, I only knew I was a human being until society taught me that I was Black.  I can’t let go of my Blackness anymore than White people can let go of White privilage.  We are who we are.

The question is, how are we going to live the life we’ve been given, as Black women?

Being pissed off all the time?  Being a victim all the time?

Or finding authentic joy for ourselves, and giving it to others. 

The choice is yours.  But rest assured, you are not a victim; you’re angry because you want to be.  When you desire more for yoruself, you’ll find a way to move past that, and people will naturally come into your life to help you with that journey.

Until then, you’ll just be another typical pissed off Black woman, and you’ll be alone.

Peace-

Sable Verity

BREAKING: Suspect surrenders with help from Seattle KC NAACP: http://sableverity.wordpress.com/2008/07/16/breaking-james-parolines-killer-brian-keith-brown-caught-alive/

Tonight I attended the community meeting in Rainier Beach set up to address the circumstances around the death of James Paroline, as well as the circumstances surrounding the entire RB neighborhood and the hood rats that reside therein.  It was a typical community meeting.  Props to everyone, including Paroline’s family, who attended this event in good faith, hoping to leave with real solutions.  That didn’t happen. 

The key points as it relates to the case; Brown is still at large, bottom line.  Second bottom line, he needs to be caught.  Say what you want about SPD and some of it’s officers, this is a moment where I give props to the Chief; I have no doubt he is ontop of it.

But there has been some updates to share.

Patrina Hicks says she wants to clear her name. And she wants to clear the name of her sister Shawanda, and their friend Ebonie Shephard.

The three were the women involved in the confrontation with James Paroline as he tended a traffic circle in South Seattle last week. Police say Brian Keith Brown arrived shortly after and punched Paroline to the street, killing him.

But Hicks contends James Paroline choked her little sister Shawanda, and also got into an altercation with their friend Ebonie Shephard minutes before he was killed.

Hicks says she doesn’t know how Brown — who was dating another of Hicks’ sisters — learned of the confrontation and then punched Paroline in the head.

Here’s how Hicks tells the story: Shawanda, 16, and Shephard were driving in one car, headed to Shawanda’s house. Hicks was following with her three small children in a car behind them.

When they got to the traffic circle, they saw it was blocked by Paroline’s traffic cones. A man they didn’t know in another car said he had called police because Paroline wouldn’t move the cones.

Shephard got out of the car to ask Paroline to move the cones. He refused and the two got in an argument. He then hit Shephard and squirted her with water, Hicks said.

Shawanda told Hicks that she and Shephard would wait for police while Hicks went to Shawanda’s house to pick up some dirty clothes.

Hicks returned to the scene a few minutes later.

There, Hicks said she saw Shawanda crying and complaining that Paroline had choked her.

Hicks said she called 911 and waited for police to arrive.

That’s when Brown arrived and punched Paroline.

Hicks said she, her sister and Shephard are being unjustly portrayed as malicious aggressors who contributed to Paroline’s death.

They could have fled the scene, but instead they waited for police to arrive, Hicks said.

She admits the trio initially told police that they didn’t know who Brown was. But that, Hicks said, was because they were scared. Hicks said she told the truth once she realized how badly Paroline had been injured.

“We want to put flowers where died,” she said.

I have to say…I just have to say, WHAT ABOUT THE VIDEO TAPE?

A video shot by a neighbor doesn’t show the alleged spraying, and it appears to show Paroline ignoring the girls, according to a police report. The girls can be heard yelling that he squirted them with water and that he assaulted one of them, according to court documents. The girls circled Paroline continuing to scream before they eventually walked away.

That video tape is what police used to determine that Brown would be charged ASAP.  Do the girls even know it exists?  As if ONE video wasn’t enough, now we find out there’s ANOTHER tape:

KOMO/4 reported Tuesday that a separate cell phone video obtained by the television station, shot from a farther angle, showed Paroline briefly spraying one of the girls but not assaulting her.

We have two tapes…yet no slapping, no choking caught on either one, on behalf of Mr. Paroline.  Just some “ghetto girls” taunting an elder who was trying to water some plants in a garden that’s about 2 feet by two feet.

But to these girls, and hey, ladies, feel free to shoot me an email, I’d ask this, and only this: WHAT ABOUT THE VIDEO TAPE?

Based on the tape, what about how they are being portrayed in the media (and arguably here on the SV) is unfair?  Ya’ll are the ones that started this!

You attempted to hide your culpability by denying you even KNEW Brown, but you know him- you all knew him. 

This is not unfair ladies.  What is unfair is that a man is dead behind your nonsense.

Typically I am one of the first, if not THE first to stand up and defend Black folks, particularly when it seems they are being railroaded unfairly by the media or by the community.  If ya’ll want us to believe you didn’t have anything to do with this, you’re going to have to prove it, because as it stands, it’s your fault a man is dead.

No, it’s not an unfair portrayal ladies, it’s what, in the criminal justice system is known as just deserts.  You’re getting yours right now.

Again, what about BOTH video tapes?!  The camera doesn’t lie; it might add ten pounds, but it doesn’t lie.

The man briefly shot water in one of the girl’s direction.  Big deal.  That’s justification for making a scene, circling a man, screaming in his face, hollerin’ so folks can hear you down the block?  No.

And to say that “we did the right thing”.  I am sorry but I don’t think so sweetheart.  That you can’t see where you and your friends/family went wrong here, just underscores the whole problem.  You don’t think any of this is your fault.  You don’t want to admit that you’re wrong, that you made the wrong choice, because ultimately you would be admitting to much bigger life mistakes, and choices that led to negativity.  If this is how you conduct yourself out there in the world each and every day…if you surround yourself with even ONE person who conducts themself in this way, you have not learned a thing.  One of your “friends” feels this way about the world:

i get along with mostly everyone i meet and as long as you dont piss me off it will be all good so if you can obey my wishes..

Excuse me?  And what happens if I piss you off?  Are you gunn have someone come and punch me in the face?  Are you going to come knock on my door and cuss me out?  As soon as you all got out of the car, it was a problem, period.

It’s not fair to judge you?  I’m not your judge; I am an observer.  I am just calling it like I see it.  Tell me how you have regard for human life.  Tell me what you could have, and should have done differently in THIS situation.  Tell me how you are going to live your life, trying to MAKE A DIFFERENCE in the world?  Tell me how you are changed. 

If you didn’t do anything wrong, then what have you learned from this?  Nothing?  That is a problem.  I cannot stress that enough.  It is a problem.

Furthermore, let’s talk Black woman to younger Black woman.  Now, if you’re even thinking in your head “you don’t know me, I’m not going to listen to you, you’re not my mom, you can’t lecture me,” again, I cringe for the future of your spirit.  Just try and listen for once, here, it won’t kill you. 

Black woman to younger Black woman; what the hell are you doing? 

I want you to keep something in mind; the video tape that the prosecutor has, that is going to get entered into evidence in a court proceeding.  Eventually, as in all things, the public will see it.  Do you really know what is on that tape?  Do you?  Have you stopped and thought about what YOU did, not what Paroline OR Brown did, but what you did?  What are we going to see on that tape when it comes out, hmmm?  It seems ya’ll never though someone was watching, well they were, so what really happened?  Have you thought of it that way?

Additionally, you’ve got a one dimensional view of what it is like out here as a Black woman.  In the eyes of  A LOT of people, we are not diverse, we are one.  We’re the welfare mom.  The uneducated, the underemployed.  We’re the babies mamma.  We’re the chick that’ll start a fight and call her homie to finish it.

When you conduct yourself like a fool in society (and an entitled fool, at that) you make it harder for me when I come after you, or my daughter comes after you.

As much as people have used the internet to search James Paroline’s name, now they’re searching for each of you by the hundreds each day.  What have they found?  Myspaces pages that are nothing less than SHAMEFUL, and ignorant (and telling), and police and court records, some of which are quite lengthy.  Add to that, this case.  Under the freedom of information act, everyone is entitled to it.  The prosecutor’s office could have opted to redact your names as they did details of the suspect in the official charging papers; they chose not to do that.

Have you ever heard the term “everywhere you go, there you are”?  Your situation would be an appropriate example of that.

If you think my words are harsh, why don’t you take a look at what’s out there.  Take a trip over to the White conservative websites, that have this to say about you and Mr. Brown:

….Normal people would just drive around the road cones, but apparently the uppity Black women wanted to force the issue. If anyone actually objected to the road cones (and were not just trying to pick a fight), they could have easily called the police, who would have told Paroline not to put them out on the road…Mr. Paroline’s biggest mistake was living near the large sprawling Black population in southeast Seattle. He may have been one of many pensioners, who didn’t want to move from his life-long home. The trouble is that nothing good comes from living near Blacks. Thefts, burglaries, muggings and rapes are always common in mixed-race areas. In West Seattle, a young Black male, who hated White people, shot a White commuter dead for no reason. The murder of James Paroline is yet another senseless Black crime that will leave Paroline’s family in mourning because a young Black thug could not keep his temper in check and violently assaulted an old White man…

…The truth is that many Blacks are extremely hot-heated and violent. The only way this White man would have been safe would have been to move away from the high crime area of South Seattle or to have been carrying a gun so he could have shot the Black male aggressor before he was beaten to death. If you see Blacks routinely driving through past your home, then you’re living in a neighborhood like the one that cost Mr. Paroline his life…

Instead of having a faggoty-assed vigil, why don’t those Whites apply some vigilante justice of their own by putting this nigger’s head in a noose?

 

Mr. Paroline is the reason to move into a neighborhood; ya’ll are the reason to move out.

You’re going to have to convince me otherwise.  Until then, my opinion of you will remain the same, as it will for everyone else.

http://sableverity.wordpress.com/2008/07/16/objectivity-outrage-and-the-traffic-circle-murder/

http://sableverity.wordpress.com/2008/07/15/are-they-witnesses-or-accomplices-to-seattle-paroline-murder/

Posted July 14th, 2008:   SPD had to be working on something, because we have not heard hardly 2 words about the suspect orthe search for him.  Not only do they have a suspect, they have such overwhelming evidence, that he has been charged with 2nd degree murder.

My suggestion to Mr. Brown is that you call 911, give them your location, strip down to your birthday suit, go outside, lay face down in the yard, and wait for them to come and get your ass.  If you do anything else, say, try and hide at the homies, or make a run for it, you’re gunna wind up getting shot.

I have never been so happy to see a suspect’s face.  I’ll be even happier to see him caught.

If you see this man in the greater Seattle area, call the police!

Seattle police have identified a suspect in the fatal beating of a Rainier Beach man who was tending a traffic circle last week.

The King County Prosecutor’s Office has charged the man, Brian Keith Brown, 28, with second-degree murder.

A video of the attack, shot by a neighbor, showed Paroline attempting to ignore the girls until they threw water on him from water jug, according to charging papers. Police said the teenagers then removed the cones and Paroline sprayed them with water from the hose.

Several minutes later Brown pulled up in a car and punched Paroline.

The girls first told police that they didn’t know the man who struck Paroline, according to charging papers. The girls later admitted that they knew Brown, who is the boyfriend of someone they know, charging papers say.

Brown has not yet been arrested, and police are searching for him.

For the background, read http://sableverity.wordpress.com/2008/07/12/seattle-murder-leaves-us-all-shocked/

Originally posted July 12 2008:   It is an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu; seven years ago I sat down in the middle of the night at my aging PC, to write about a police shooting I had witnessed in my neighborhood, Rainier Beach.  At the time I was just weeks away from delivering my youngest child, and the violence I had seen that day forever changed me.  I wrote the first words that came to mind:

It is a rare thing to know you are seeing a man living out his last moments.

The man shot and killed by police, a youngish looking Black man, had just minutes before, brutally attacked a group of people while high on drugs; including children.  I still remember vividly the image of a police officer carrying a child from the duplex, her dark brown legs dangling limply over his arms.  It was heart breaking.

I also wrote about the reaction of by-standers at the time.  I happened to be walking home from the library, but many others, who were passing by in their cars, pulled over and got out, watching the events unfold.  I said then:

Things became quiet as the calm arrived before the storm. I stood and watched my people, my brothers and sisters who were responding to the crowd as a time for bonding. I was shocked to see those who were watching the same thing we were, take time to talk about hair, babies, upcoming events and social gatherings, recent deaths and births, divorces and marriages. My husband and I stood in a sea of faces, none of whom we knew, but all felt like family — the aunt who knows everyone’s business, the cousin you never see, and too many of our beautiful babies, all standing around, connecting.

I felt the need to point this out at the time because I was struck and disturbed by how un-effected people seemed to be by what was happening just a few hundred feet away, and how some had claimed the police shot the man “in cold blood”, even after he ran out, shooting at police for all to see.

Fast forward, and here I sit.  I still do all my grocery shopping in Rainier Beach…still use the cleaners too.  But I no longer live in Rainier Beach.  I’ve graduated to a handy lap-top, and my youngest child has since passed away.  Many things have changed in seven years.

But some things have stayed the same.  Senseless violence and death in Rainer Beach seems to be one of them.

I was shocked and sickened yesterday when, in one of my many trips to both daily papers online, I heard about the senseless assault of James Paroline, an RB resident who was attacked while tending to the garden in the traffic circle by his home.  Paroline had set up traffic cones to prevent drivers from running over his hose; this act led to a few altercations, and culminated in him being punched in the face by a twenty-something Black male; Paroline hit the concrete so hard, his scull was crushed- an image that the Seattle PI displayed for all, and which led me back to my computer with these words again in my head:

It is a rare thing to know you are seeing a man living out his last moments.

 

This photo has been purposely altered to dim the image, out of respect for the memory of the victim

That image of Mr. Paroline, lying helpless in the middle of the street, assaulted my senses, nearly making me ill.  The blood.  The caved-in skull.  The limpness of his body.  There was a man living his last moments.  Taking his last free breaths, and for what?  A few traffic cones in the street?  I have seen a lot in my life.  But this…

I am aware that there are some reports that Paroline was a difficult neighbor, while others say the man simply cared about where he lived, and tried to do his part in many ways, one of which was the traffic garden.  Difficult neighbor or not, he didn’t deserve to be punched in the face by a complete stranger.  He didn’t deserve to die just hours later at Harborview Hospital.

I find myself focused on the same issue that I was seven years ago; we as a people, and as a community have a problem.  Seven years ago, a few accused me of portraying Black people as uncaring and flippant, even indignant at what they saw that day.

I suppose I may be accused of those same things today, but a man has lost his life, and another, when caught, will spend most of the rest of his in prison, and for what?  For what?  We should all demand to know the answer to that.  It had nothing to do with traffic cones in the street.

Rainier Beach is a beautiful place.  There are families that have lived there for generations who embody the true essence of community. There are plenty of young adults who live there, that care about it, that are neighborly, that don’t get into trouble.

But then of course, there are many who do not.  They have no respect for themselves or anyone else, and not enough is provided to keep them on track; there can be no solutions to a problem if the problem is left undefined.  If we don’t like it, then what are we prepared to do about it, and when are we going to do it?  I can’t keep track of the number of homicides involving Black youth over the past nine months in the south end and in south east Seattle.  How many more makeshift memorials are we going to have to lay flowers at?

My perception of RB can’t be pawned off on the media’s often disproportionate reporting; I lived in Rainer Beach.  I spent years listening to gun fire all night, waking in the morning to hear accounts from neighbors, watched the fights in the street between young Black men and young Black women, endured the teen-agers and twenty-something’s pushing everyone else out from under the metro bus shelter in order to carry out a quick drug deal, or smoke some marijuana with friends, the police on the other side of the block, or not around at all.  I remember all to well my seven year old coming in crying, because another seven year old threatened to shoot her, because she wouldn’t give him her toy; he told her he was going to get the gun in his house and ran off.  She remained petrified after that.  I passed by the funeral home on Rainier and Henderson, in the heart of “the Beach” every day on my way to work and saw the Black mothers crying for their dead children, while in a jai cell, another young Black man sat awaiting his fate.

The decision to leave Rainier Beach was made solely because of the visible dominating culture; I wanted to get out before it began having a negative impact on my children.  For all of those children you see in RB “hanging out”, there are dozens more whose parents are keeping them in the house, and this is exactly why.  Because someone can walk up to you, who feels they have the right to assault you, or take your life, and do just that.  Rainier Beach has its bullies; anyone who has ever lived there knows that.

The sidewalks have been improved.  A new school is being built.  Spiffy new housing units have gone up, a stone’s throw from light rail, but some things have remained the same.

Another person is dead, and another, will likely be on his way to prison for killing him, unless of course he is justifiably shot by the police first. 

****

I want everyone to know that the photo used in this article, was not used lightly.  When I first happened upon it while checking the local news, it had a profoundly painful impact on me.  I sent an email to the newspaper, asking them to post a warning to readers, so that they could make an informed decision about whether or not they wanted to see it, and I received a gracious reply.  When I first saw the photo, one of my many instincts, was to make a copy, because I knew that it wouldn’t be up for long, because of how graphic it is.  I know that if I saw the need to send a note to the paper, thousands of others did as well; not long after it first went up, it was gone, replaced by a blood stained sidewalk in stead.

I took time to think about whether or not I was going to use it or not, but as you can see, ultimately I decided it’s inclusion was important, vital even. 

Peace,

Sable Verity

http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/local/370578_rainierbeach12.html

http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/jamieson/370576_robert12xx.html

From the AP:

VIENNA, Austria (AP) — Questioning of an incest victim held in a cellar for 24 years is set to start later this month and will involve a doctor to determine how one of the seven babies she had with her father died, a prosecutor said Tuesday.

St. Poelten prosecutor Gerhard Sedlacek also said authorities hope to have formal charges against Josef Fritzl ready within a few months, which would allow a trial to start before the end of the year.

Fritzl has told investigators he fathered his daughter Elizabeth’s seven children; three raised in a cellar at his home in Amstetten, three brought up above ground, and one who died in infancy, officials said. DNA tests confirmed he is the biological father of the six surviving children.

Authorities say Fritzl confessed to incinerating the corpse of the dead baby, identified as one of a pair of twins born in 1997. He could face murder charges if it turns out he was responsible for its death, Sedlacek said.

Sedlacek says Elisabeth’s questioning by a judge will take place in a special room at an undisclosed location. Her answers will be transmitted via video to the defense and she will not have to face her father unless she specifically requests to do so.

At least two days are set aside for the questioning, Sedlacek said.

Fritzl and his wife raised three of the children he fathered with his daughter after Fritzl claimed Elisabeth left them at the doorstep of the family’s home. Authorities say the other three were confined underground.

This was found online in an Irish publication:

By Christina Reihill

Sunday June 29 2008

If last week’s documentary on the unspeakable acts of Josef Fritzl left you feeling nauseous, get ready to throw up. Because, when I heard Fritzl’s line of defence — “I was addicted to abusing my daughter” — a chill went up my spine.

As unacceptable as this rationalisation might be, the truth is that anyone familiar with the unconscious mapping of addictions knows he could link a cogent argument here.

And the legal commentator interviewed knew this. “Addiction is not a defence!” he erupted.

Addictions are not an acceptable defence for criminal behaviour, but lawyers know that crimes committed by those in addiction can win leniency, and many think Fritzl knows this, and is already on the case.

As a master manipulator, Fritzl claims his motives were good, while he cast a powerful spell of denial around him.

Behind a mask of unholy deception, this architect of darkness robbed the hopes and dreams of so many, including the ultimate innocents — his children.

How they survived this ordeal will add significantly to exisiting psychological theory.

Meanwhile, Fritzl’s extraordinary cunning and capacity to beguile those around him will be testing the psychiatrists and lawyers preparing for the trial.

And while many will want him convicted as a criminal, with the promise that he will never be free to act out his sadistic primitive urges again, there is no guarantee of this.

The Austrian State has already proved itself to be the primary colluding force in allowing Fritzl’s savage behaviours to go uninvestigated — the Justice Minister admitted his officials had been “gullible” in accepting Fritzl’s reasons for the disappearance of his daughter — so we have no reason to believe that it won’t continue to indulge him, or fall prey to his deep narcissistic wounding.

There is a strong mental health argument outside the obvious Freudian one. (He has said that he lusted after his mother — which is the case for addiction.)

If the defence succeeds in defining his behaviour as an addiction, it could claim he had no control over his impulses, which could mitigate any possible charge against him. The defence could argue that Fritzl’s powerful desire to sleep with his mother began as a compulsion, which led to a sex abuse addiction. Addiction counsellors know that when a compulsion becomes an addiction, self-will runs riot in the unconscious mind of the addicted person.

The key for the prosecution will be to prove Fritzl was aware of what he was doing and knew that it was wrong. Meanwhile, Fritzl’s defence team will be studying the complex definition and nature of addictions.

Patricia Casey, the psychiatrist interviewed on the same programme, stated Fritzl will have trouble defending an insanity plea because his behaviour fails to exhibit the chaotic presentation of a psychosis eg: schizophrenia/ bi-polar disorder — which is true, but she was not asked to comment on the addiction argument. Or maybe she was, and wisely stood back from commenting on it.

Because Fritzl’s behaviour can be framed in the context of an addiction.

Of course, his repeated abuse of his daughter bears no comparison to the addictions we’re used to dealing with — alcohol, food, drugs and/or gambling — but that doesn’t mean his behaviour is not an addiction. His crime doesn’t even compare with the behaviours of serial killers, but in terms of the unconscious pathways that addictions travel, there is a pathological map Fritzl’s lawyers can, and will, undoubtedly use.

As unsettling as this is, I’d say Fritzl has already researched this subject and knows what boxes need ticking to flag his defence and has already laid the foundations for this argument.

In his limited statements so far, he’s told reporters that he had a difficult childhood, with a dominating mother who regularly beat him.

This statement prepares the ground for a “learned sadistic behaviours” defence.

Addictions are defined by thought patterns. Fritzl’s legal team could find experts to map their unconscious pathways to their client’s pathology.

In terms of the definition and nature of addiction, the jury could well be presented with some version of the following: Addictions are sophisticated systems of denial requiring subtle but sustained attention for the addicted person — Fritzl’s highly organised attention to detail beggars belief.

Another definition states addictions are unstable states of being marked by a compulsion to deny who we are in favour of a new or desired experience. If the defence does its homework, they’ll note that addictions focus on issues of control. Addictions, however harmless, make us feel in control, however illusory or momentary that is. Every “fix” soothes us with the statement “all is well” whether it’s a hit of heroin or a high from hoping — our drug of choice is only the vehicle we use to fast track its good feeling.

Fritzl’s team could argue that, as a result of his experience of powerlessness under the sadistic reign of his mother, he unconsciously sought power by controlling all around him.

This argument should lose weight, as he seems to have been aware that what he was doing was wrong (the elaborate planning to hide his behaviour and a host of other arguments will support this), but the addiction argument has grounds.

More theoretically, Fritzl’s behaviour is striking in its stunning metaphor for addictions. Our addictions hold the secrets of our most primitive desires in the cellars in our minds, and to keep these yearnings alive requires incredible planning and attention to detail, however unconsciously that is. The keys, the locks, the steel doors and dungeons we build, make up a labyrinth of unconscious locking systems which protect and propel our bad addictions, however hidden and harmless they may seem to be.

Indeed, some therapists would argue that some of these spaces are necessary to protect what is precious, as well as unhelpful to us. At the end of the documentary, the commentator remarked on the irony that Fritzl’s years of imprisoning his family now had him under lock and key, which is the ultimate metaphor for addiction.

A Japanese proverb relating to alcohol addiction and how it imprisons the alcoholic states: The man took the drink, the drink took the drink, then the drink took the man.

- Christina Reihill