Victim Impact Statement
by Ethan Mallove (son of Eugene Mallove)June 11, 2012
After a vicious beating that left my father dead, a seven year homicide investigation, pretrialhearings, several weeks of jury selection and trial - I am offered a few minutes to tell the courtwhat it's all been like. Every moment of despair, every anger-filled day, all the lost time, theunanswered questions, the permanent psychological scars - squeezed into a few paragraphs.I detest having to write this. The idea that one could describe the full impact of this revoltingcrime is unreasonable. It colors all aspects of my life, though none of it can be measured. If only there were a way to gauge the pain caused by this crime, a way to assess the damage.How many conversations could my dad have had, which have been taken away? How manyvisits over the holidays? How many trips to see his grandchildren? And I’m only a secondaryvictim. The real victim is my dad. We can’t ask my dad what he had planned to do with the restof his life, and what would be the cost of erasing all of it. The stress it's put on my family is enormous. It’s taken a huge toll on the trust I have in others.The perception I have of the world has been changed. My pessimism has increased, my abilityto experience joy has decreased. And all of the suffering transfers to those close to me, whichtransfers to those close to them, and so on. There is a ripple effect. My father was brilliant, kind, and good-natured. It seemed he could talk to anyone aboutanything. The local bookstore was his home away from home, and he spent every idle momentreading about history, science, and technology. At 56, he was at the peak of his intellectualprime, with an extraordinary knowledge-base. A lifetime of study had prepared him for researching and documenting difficult questions in science. As a talented scientist and writer,he had absolutely zero inclination towards violence, and was a defenseless target for someonebent on assaulting people. My father was a companion, best friend, and essential life support system for my mother.Without him, she was an amputee. She and my dad had spent a lifetime - 34 years - buildingtheir marriage, weathering hardships together. They worked and planned their whole lives for a pleasant retirement. They had just moved into a one floor house that they could grow old intogether. They loved being together. After my dad was murdered, my mom said she
felt likeshe was living in a tomb
. Having to manage the affairs of her two sick and elderly parents andmother-in-law, and her full-time job - all while dealing with an ongoing homicide investigationand the trauma of the murder - eventually took a heavy toll on her health, and destroyed her spirit. I watched her read the autopsy report. She cried and said,
"who would do this?"
Shealways weeps when she talked about what happened to my dad. Today, she often tears upwhen she talks about my dad, and desperately wishes he was still alive. She is now unable tolive alone, drive a car, and have normal social connections. At the time of his murder, my father had been caring for his grandmother, Gladys. He hadrented her an apartment next to his office, where he could visit and tend to her everyday.Gladys never had a chance to speak with or say goodbye to her only son. She died alone and