Lost Cos

Bill Cosby was convicted of three counts of indecent aggravated assault yesterday.

His attorney vows an aggressive appeal, of course. The reality is there’s a good chance William H. Cosby, Jr. has lived his last day as a free man. The justice done yesterday may be incomplete and imperfect, but it is justice nonetheless, and I welcome it.

I’m sad for his victims. I’m sad for our disillusionment with the man—the cultural icon—we thought he was. (I had a word or two to say before about the foolishness of projecting onto celebrities.) I’m sad for those close to him, particularly his wife Camille. She’s certainly carried her share of water for him, but she’s also trying to hold together the only reality she’s known for the past 54 years. She deserves pity, not derision.

I am not sad for him. He is apparently wholly without remorse, and his profane outburst yesterday tells me he fully expected to avoid significant consequences for the rest of his days. I find his crimes of taking by force and deception that which should only be freely offered and shared absolutely despicable, and though he, like each of us, is ultimately God’s to deal with, I don’t have to like him.

And I don’t.

Mr. Cosby, I think the rest of the world struggles with your shattered legacy much more than you do. And frankly, if you’re not to a point of genuine introspection yet, such may elude you indefinitely.

So do the world a favor and just be quiet for the rest of your life.

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