Living in Orlando, we’ve dealt with the Casey Anthony case far longer and in far more detail than the rest of the world. I watched along with the rest of the world as the verdict was read. I wasn’t shocked that they did not find her guilty of first degree murder, but I was beyond shocked that she was not found guilty of aggravated manslaughter. Yes, the case was largely circumstantial, but the bottom line is someone put duct tape on that child’s mouth. Someone put that child in a trash bag and threw her in a swamp like yesterday’s garbage. Whether Casey meant to kill her child or it truly was an “accident that snowballed out of control”, the bottom line is the same. A child is dead. HER child is dead.
I understand that Casey must feel relief for being found not guilty of murder or manslaughter. But it’s a disgrace to her daughter’s memory to act so joyful in the courtroom after the verdict was read. There should be no joy. Your child is still dead. How can you be happy about that? How can you stand in that courtroom and smile and laugh with your attorneys when your child is dead? That I will never understand.
What’s been lost in this entire farce of a trial is the person this is all about in the first place. Caylee Marie Anthony. She was a beautiful little girl whose life was cut far too short. She was a beautiful little girl whose death will never be settled in the American justice system.
This is who this trial was supposed to be about, and that got lost in the circus.
