LPfiction

Category Linkin Park

Beauty of Obsession by mikenchazforever

A Letter from Legal Counsel Bradford Delson

Disclaimer: I don’t own Linkin Park.



Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, and your honor—


May it please the court, I trust to be able to be brief in my remarks unless I should find myself less master of the subject which I propose to discuss than I hope. Experience has taught that nothing is as rambling as human mind. I fear I may prove thus ignorant, as I had not expected to take part in this debate until very recently.

I shall discuss nothing more but a single incident that took place in Gibsland, Louisiana—also known as final resting place of Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow back in 1930s—during January 20, 2004.

The escapade of Robert Gregory Bourdon on the night of January 17, 2004 who was on his parole since November of 2003 had caused two accounts of involuntary manslaughter and acts of bank robbery along the way while he was kidnapping Chester Charles Bennington, holding him as hostage.


During this honorable period which I shall occupy, I desire to discuss the background story I’ve found on our deceased accused to straighten the record. By no means have I had foul intentions to corrupt the real story behind the curtains nor have I thought of manipulating and underestimate the intelligence that all of you possess.


However, if you’d allow me, I’d like to argue—before we further judge Robert Gregory Bourdon’s crime based on our ethics and moral system in United States, I advise you to take a look at their tangled thorn and ruptured lives and take sympathy in their situation before the case is dismissed and filed away for good.

Gentlemen and Gentlewomen of the jury, and your honor—

This is the true story of Robert Gregory Bourdon and Chester Charles Bennington.


Please be considerate for it is the record of one man’s life—and his downfall at the same time that this twisted system in America have caused.



Fall, 2003


I’m not a writer. I’m certainly not a philosopher. I’m more of what you would call a convict, a criminal. People see me and see a social trash. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I am not so useful in this society. Quoting Tupac Shakur, I am a thug. I am a thug not because I want to rape, rob, and kill people but because I was born and lived in the gutter my entire life. Unfortunately, like many societies in the past, America was not so fond of my kinds. Well, it’s too bad for America, because I am still here sticking middle finger at it from the jail cell, shouting fuck the world. I digressed. This is sort of like my will. About 5 years ago, I was sentenced in state prison for 16 years on account of second degree murder and usage of deadly weapons. You may be curious as to what I’ve done and why I did what I did. But more important question would be: who did I do it for?


It’s a simple question, but just by thinking of him, my heart already feels as though my wounds have been ripped open and salted. He was the driving force of my entire 30 years of existence and the only reason that kept me sane. There’s a saying, true love never ends in happiness—but I beg to differ. I think true love has no ending at all. It’s funny because a criminal like me is talking about something as romantic and pure as love but I won’t hesitate to hold him in my arms when I see him again—even if my hands are still bloody from my crimes. After all, love is blinding.


His name was Chester. Chester…like a fire, he consumed me and like a shadow, he haunted me and my sleepless nights. He is my sin, my undying spirit. Chester…the tip of my tongue taking a trip of three steps in my mouth until it hits my teeth. He was Chaz in the morning standing five feet ten in one sock and he was Chester Charles Bennington in legal papers but in my heart, he was always just Chester. From the moment he walked in with his hazel brown eyes with faint scent of cinnamon all over his body until his soft ambiguous eyes closed in sheer happiness in my arms, I never once doubted about fate. His unfortunate life correlated with mine—and his misery reflected my own misery thus we came to understand one another like soul mates. But never once I doubted the certainty of the fact that I was the one who lived in the mere shadows of the past—and it was Chester, who lived in the hopes for the future that nearly existed beyond the boundaries of human world. If anyone asked me if I would regret the things I’ve done—I would simply say no. And as I sit here, waiting for my parole to be granted, I beat on boats against the current, back into my past that I believe can be alternated.






Hi guys! Thanks for your support on my previous stories. I can't thank you enough. I am currently working on this story--I'll do my best. This is somewhat angsty/romance/drama...Can't really figure it out since it's not finished yet. =) But thanks anyway for reading. I love you all!!! (Sorry this chapter is short. It's just some kind of a preface)

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