By John Q. Hosedrinker The news of Robert Fisher’s death in a New York prison resonates deeply within me, sparking a mix of relief, disgust, and a darker curiosity about the nature of justice and human morality. Fisher, a man whose actions led to the abominable crime of raping and murdering a three-year-old girl, has become synonymous with the horrors that some people are capable of committing. To think that someone could inflict such irreversible trauma on a child is incomprehensible, and honestly, it leaves a stain on the very fabric of humanity.
Expressions of joy and relief swirling on social media in response to his death highlight the complex emotions surrounding figures like Fisher. It seems almost instinctual for people to feel vindicated when a monster meets an end. While I don’t usually wish for death, I can’t deny that there are exceptions—cases like Fisher’s, where the world feels a bit lighter knowing he is no longer able to cause harm. It’s unsettling, really, but it reflects a shared understanding of justice in an imperfect society.
The manner of his death is unfortunately shrouded in mystery, which invites an unsettling curiosity. Whether he died from natural causes or perhaps suffered a fate akin to poetic justice isn’t something I’m interested in dissecting too deeply. The fact remains, however, that his demise means he won’t victimizing any more innocents. I can’t shake the thought that someone capable of such heinous acts truly deserves no sympathy. Fisher’s brief stint of twenty years in the justice system feels like a slap in the face, a glaring example of how broken our penal system often is when it comes to punishing such grotesque crimes.
The idea that he might have tried to erase his vile acts—using Clorox to wipe clean the evidence—reflects not only a desperate attempt to conceal his guilt but also the utter depravity of his mindset. The grotesque image of a man drugging and violating a child while trying to scrub away every trace of his crime is beyond revolting. It’s easy for one’s mind to wander into the realm of ‘how could this happen, and how could he ever have been allowed to walk this earth?’ Rehabilitation for someone like Fisher feels like an absurd proposition, a mere fantasy that society can’t afford to entertain.
Witnessing the reactions from the family of the little girl, particularly her brother, brings a strange sense of vicarious closure. To know that justice, in the eyes of those who suffered most from Fisher’s actions, can feel served, is a necessary acknowledgement. Hearing him say that he feels relief on this grimly monumental day gives me hope that while pain can often feel insurmountable, those who suffer can at least find some solace in the end of the terror brought upon them.
As Fisher’s name leaves the public sphere, replaced by discussions of other injustices and societal challenges, I can’t help but think of how easily we dismiss monsters among us. There might be bigger problems facing the world right now, but instances like Fisher’s show the immediate need for accountability when it comes to protecting vulnerable populations.
In a strange way, this event serves as a reminder of the fragile line between civility and savagery; the balance can tilt in an instant. As I reflect on the fallout from Fisher’s life and legacy, it becomes evident that the discussions surrounding his death reveal much about human nature. Amidst the relief and the joy expressed, there remains a haunting reminder of what evil looks like when it is allowed to flourish unhindered for too long. I hope it serves as a call to action, urging us to reflect on how we deal with those who represent the worst of us.
The world feels slightly better without Robert Fisher in it. That thought resonates powerfully for many, myself included. In a society filled with countless injustices, we can at least acknowledge that some battles can yield a sense of quiet victory, reminding us that even in darkness, the light of justice can sometimes shine through.