I cannot seem to overcome my strong feelings about this topic. I cannot tolerate fact that a 6 year-old child was beaten to death yet I cannot accept a 14 year-old boy being sentenced to life in prison without possibility of parole. Where in world did this sentence come from? This is a child we are talking about and a crime he committed when he was 12 years old!

The crime that brought this case to trial is appalling, yet sentencing a 14-year-old boy life in prison without possibility of parole is ludicrous. This is not justice, this is cruel and unusual punishment handed down to a child. This is cowardice in its highest form and jurors who convicted him should be ashamed. How could state of Florida try this boy as an adult in first place? He is not an adult nor should he be expected to assume consciousness of an adult.

Yes, my kids have had head lice. No, they are not dirty or poorly groomed, nor do they hang out with dirty kids. How these perfectly awful little stinkers found their way into our home was on my older daughter’s head, courtesy of one of her classmates. As soon as we managed to eradicate first offense, my younger daughter started scratching her bean, thank you. This went on for six gruesome weeks, passing from one kid to other. I ran more than 90 loads of laundry, destroying most of our better linens, clothes and comforters by boiling them in hottest water washing machine could muster. We sprayed every inch of our home with pediculicide. We washed our hair daily with lice-killing shampoo until we had blisters from strong poisons needed to try to kill vermin and their precious eggs. We pulled nits from our daughter’s long hair for hours at a time, quarantined every stuffed animal and doll with hair for weeks ... all to no avail.

My children were traumatized, I was reduced to a crying, hysterical bug-fearing heap and our 19-year-old cat was tortured by twice-weekly flea baths that he appreciated about as much as a bowl of steamed rice.

I’m sorry ... I wish I had an answer, a cure ... some hope to offer. I don’t.

After week six of lice-induced panic, we finally set off flea bombs in every room of house, then fled to my mother’s for two hours while canisters sprayed poison over every inch of our furniture and belongings. Warily, we stepped back into our home where we were greeted by a coat of greasy goop to wipe off every square inch of exposed possessions. I then called my daughter’s school, making it very clear that she would not be returning until I was guaranteed outbreak was completely eliminated from her classroom. She was home for two more weeks before school nurse assured me she had sent every child with nits home to live torture we had. We had finally managed to eradicate plague. This was more than three years ago ... can you tell it’s still as fresh a trauma in my heart and soul as it was then? Believe it. It is.