The Roger O'Hara Story

​In the mid 1980s I remember a visit to one of my mother's relatives, a cousin of hers named Roger O'Hara. He lived on the same side of the city as us and his place was about a ten minute drive away. My sister and I were very excited to visit Roger's family as he had a boy and a girl that we could play with.

​We arrived at their house which was a run down shack. The first thing I remember after entering was the throat burning smell of smoke. The next thing I remembered was the appearance of Roger. He was half balding with greasy hair swept to one side and his face was scrawny and unshaven. His shirt was unbuttoned which revealed a hairy chest, the rest of him stunk like alcohol. I was scared of him from the time we arrived. 

His wife named Daureen seemed like a nice lady that for some reason was wearing big framed tinted glasses. When she turned her head a couple of times I could see why. Roger had given her a couple of black eyes. I noticed how her hands were trembling non-stop and every time she went to get my parents a drink or something to eat Roger would raise his voice and say that soon the power and water would be turned off and they would be sitting in the dark. He railed on about how they couldn't be giving out free food and drinks because he had been unemployed for almost a year. There was only one person drinking and that was him as he lined up bottle after bottle of beer on the table. 

He then lit a cigarette, took a long pull on it and threw the matchbook on the table. On the matchbook cover was a nude woman with huge breasts. Roger then hollered at us to go play upstairs because he and my dad had to talk business. My sister went to play with the daughter and I went with the son, Billy, to his room. As we walked to his room he told me he wanted to show me something. He opened the door to his parent's bedroom and flicked on the light. The walls were covered with posters of nude women. I was in awe but felt really bad for his mother because I knew she was getting a regular humiliation and beating from Roger. 

We continued on to his room which wasn't really a room, but an attic. Billy didn't even have a bed, he merely slept on the floor. There were no lights in the room and there was only a small round window the size of a basketball for Billy to look out. I felt scared for him. Seconds later his father came up the stairs and screamed at Billy, "I told you not to go in my room."

He told me to get out and then slammed the door. Billy started to scream and wail as Roger began to beat the hell out of him. Five minutes later Roger came out of the room, sweating and straightening his hair. I was nine years old at the time and that was the first time I ever wanted to kill someone. I went back into Billy's room where his tiny skinny six year old body was curled up on the floor in the corner. He was crying softly. I pulled him up, put my arm around him and held him for several minutes. I wanted to take him home with us. My heart ached for Billy.

My sister came into the room trembling and the four of us went back downstairs. I finally saw Billy in the light. His face was bruised, his left eye was swollen shut and his lower lip was double the size of his upper lip. My parents looked at him and my mom started to cry. My dad said it was time to go when the daughter screamed, "Don't leave." 

Roger grabbed his daughter by the hair and hollered at us to leave. Outside I looked back at the house where Billy was waving at me through his tiny window. I waved back and looked though the living room window where Roger still had his daughter by the hair. He saw us looking and pulled down the blinds. The tiny girl started to scream. We hopped in our car and my dad raced to a pay phone and called 911. Within minutes three cop cars swarmed the house with guns ready and smashed down the front and back doors. A massive cop rag dolled Roger and slammed him into the cement. All of a sudden Roger wasn't so tough. His wife carried her half naked daughter out of the house and little Billy ran into my arms. The cop roughed up Roger some more before shoving him into the squad car.

In remand word got around that Roger molested his kids. The second night his cell was left unlocked intentionally. Around midnight a giant man with a swastika tattooed on his stomach entered Roger's cell and butchered Roger to death with a butter knife...