Well, it looks like we have yet another Canadian version of Ted Bundy sitting in an Ontario jail. Russell Williams, once known as Colonel Russell Williams, from Tweed, Ontario, has been charged with over 80 various counts of breaking and entering, sexual assault, and in the case of two unfortunate women, murder.
Details are scant to the casual reader or viewer, but what has come through is very, very disturbing. Despite the fetish for women's underwear, despite the sick penchant for taking pictures of his various conquests, despite his twisted sexual exhibitionism, and despite the vicious murders, I suppose one of the most evil aspect of this case is the duplicity-- fancy word for a double life—that marked Williams' life.
On the one hand, he was a rising star in the Canadian military, but on the other hand, he was a sadistic pervert and torturer. One wonders just when this slide began, and how it remained unnoticed, especially by those near and dear to him. Didn't any of his army peers pick up on anything strange in his behaviour, or was he just that good at leading a double life?
Perhaps it's a poor comparison, but Tiger Woods' "road show" smacks of something similar. While no women died, many women were used for his sexual fantasies and fulfillment, while those close to him either knew nothing or simply said nothing. And as I write this article, the media is monitoring the Brett Favre situation, with allegations of moral impropriety with an erstwhile New York Jets' female beat writer.
Why do the words lying, misleading, faking, and duping come to mind?
As much as I long for the simpler times of yesteryear, that isn't going to happen. In a day of Face book, Twitter, and cell phones, the fresh warmth of true accountability appears to be a fading reality. People can hide behind the mask of anonymity, with the use of coded or pen names, as they write, tweet, and opine about anything and everything. I should add here that I use none of the above and when I write, I use my real name.
One of life's greatest ironies at present is that we appear to be more open with each other, via the afore-mentioned tools-- what with texting continuously, producing reality television shows, and blogging daily--but I believe we are more distant from each other than ever before.
In other words, we give the impression of connectedness, when in fact we are more disconnected than ever. The gross over-use of "tolerance" and "individual freedom" has been an unmitigated and deadly disaster in most quarters.
Hence, the Williams story is really a confirmation of this duality. He wore the right uniform, said the right things, followed the right protocol, yet at the same time, he was prowling neighbourhoods, looking for fulfillment of his twisted fantasies.
The people in Tweed are devastated and humiliated: Devastated, so they should be; humiliated, not at all. Tweed is no different than, say, Camrose or Weyburn or Brandon. What happened in Tweed could happen anywhere. Tragically, it probably already is.
And if Tweed is a microcosm of an everyday Canada, then Williams is a reflection of the unaccountable Canadian. And he is not the first Canadian to shock and disgust us: We have already been sickened by a Paul Bernardo, but this case appears to be far worse. When will we ever learn?
Is there a lesson in this calamity for us? Indeed, there needs to be that fine balance between greater awareness without unnecessary intrusion, between the freedom of transparency and the need for privacy.
I can think of two grieving families back east who would concur.
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