A Life Sentence to Ed Bell

Narrative Legal Modern Elegy (Poem)

***SPOILER ALERT***

The following poem contains spoilers for the book Life Sentence: How My Father Defended Two Murderers and Lost Himself  by Amy Bell. Scroll at your own precaution.

Ed Bell, do you remember?

That fateful Moncton morning of ‘74, the last Christmas week of its kind?

As you prepared festivities with your family that December,

The reports blared that officers Bourgeois and O’Leary had died.

The country was in shock, as you were as well,

Mourning the deaths of such outstanding men, admired in every way.

But as the suspects were out, misters Ambrose and Hutchison, now put under hell,

Something inside you sparked, and you knew where your ambitions lay.

You set out for their protection and were quickly made a public enemy,

But you still strove for justice and their human rights, no matter the appeal.

You saw these men as men, alienated and battered from the world to see,

The bruised Polaroid you took at the station a testimony to what you would reveal.

Court is now in session, tensions high from ground to roof.

The Judge beckons to all with a nod:

“Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth,

And nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

Your brow is filled with sweat, yet your head remainshigh.

Ambrose and Hutchison are at your side, waiting as each second drags itself by.

The stand is each witness’s stage, but their eyes and the floor are yours,

And as you stand to speak, their doubtful silence echoes across closed doors.

“These men before you, whom you despise, are victims,” you say.

Your hand painting a picture of empathic perspective; they’re framed and in full display.

Police brutality, failed missions and evidence in disarray:

It’s clear there’s more behind what’s known, a story woven for them to pay.

“You must defend them,” your heart cries out, “You must set them free.”

A forbidden justice impaled by the spiteful pinpricks of society,

Faintly yet fiercely burning in your veins, bleeding out your reason to be

Against the death penalty and violence of all men prosecuted under scrutiny.

How bravely you persisted in the line of fire,

Against a prosecution so strong, against even youronce Liberal mentor in the highchair.

Defying the Stein kidnapping to the executions in the woods, with inconsistencies, half-opened doors and outrageous liars,

Securing a victory against a public flash of hateful propaganda by just a hair.

But unfortunately, it seemed fate was against you, as the rest of the world already was:

Alas, the forensic technology developed, and your men’s blood matched sample.

And on that final day, as the jury shouted “Guilty!” and reporters buzzed,

Your underdogs were charged a life sentence, like strays leashed, forever under hateful handles.

You were left a shell for the years to come, and soon after, your wife’s death was your mutiny,

Leaving your children to wallow in the pain you drowned in once before.

You didn’t mean for it to be this way, but who could set you free,

When you couldn’t do the same for the men who almost lost their lives under yours?

As you struggled through failed projects, judgmental eyes and a broken family,

The world moved on; the officers were laid to rest in peace, but you and your clients were not.

But your efforts would not be in vain, as what would be found by your daughter, Amy,

Would finally uncover your valiance overshadowed by blind hate, showing just how hard you fought…

And so, as her words of your story rebound across tribunals and households,

We lay you to rest, Ed, for your pursuit of fair treatment and equality, even despite all that’s been told.

We see now what we should have and will forever owe as we move through:

A life sentence of determination, justice and truth…

Dedicated, dear Ed, all to you.

***

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