My first semester in college at the most esteemed Southeastern Louisiana University, I took a class entitled Criminal Justice 101. It was taught by Dr. Bob Hale, quite an interesting fellow, whom was constantly reminiscing of the fights he would get into with his neighbor in his hometown of Louisville, KY. He never disclosed to us what the guy's first name was. Only that his last name was "Horseman" (pronounced hoarsemin) and how he absolutely wanted to kill this man. He spoke in class one day (of well over 100 people) about how he wanted to beat him to death with a shovel. I'll never forget that. A shovel beating topic in Criminal Justice class, spoken softly and eloquently in a Kentucky southern drawl. On one of the tests Dr. Hale gave, one of the questions was how the best way to kill this man was. Multiple choice...and one of the choices was to bury him up to his head and run over him with a lawnmower.
I never missed this class. It was like a wildcard. You never knew what to expect. One day we might be discussing the importance of Robert Merton or Caesar Lambrusco, the next we'd be talking about how one day Dr. Hale almost picked up an Easton baseball bat and went next door to bludgeon Horseman to death. You know, in hindsight, we probably should have notified the administration but who would want to mess this up? One of the coolest things about him was that he never gave final or midterm exams. He'd say "You know, they tell us here that we HAVE to give a midterm and final. But nobody says anything about you having to TAKE it. So next Friday at 7:30, I'll be here with your exam. But taking it is completely up to you. No extra points will come your way from it, because I'm not going to grade it and it will be thrown away as soon as class is over." I really should have gone to the final just to see what it was about but the thrill of youth and the opportunity to get shitfaced the previous night was likely far too overwhelming.
I took him for 101 and CJ 102 and he was my advisor for my first year in school. Back then, you had to get your schedule request approved before you could schedule. He had an office on the third floor of this building and I went up to talk to him to get approval. His office was probably about 4' X 4' with just a desk, a Pink Floyd poster, and not much else. When I went to speak with him, he had the lights off and just had a little desk lamp illuminating the tiny little room. I introduced myself to him, and told him how much I enjoyed his 101 class. He said "Everybody likes that class."
A few semesters later, people were talking about how fucked up he was getting so I scheduled a 300 level class (only about 20 people, far smaller than the intro level stuff) he taught. The class was entitled "Deviance" so I was thinking this could be one of the most fucked up things I'd ever get to see. I was right. Dr. Hale would teach this like he hated it. He'd just go through the outline and ask people questions, then he'd sit in the desk chair and not say much. We were like "What the fuck is going on with this guy" but sort of accepted that this is what happened as you advanced in the CJ curriculum. One day we went to class and he never showed up. All hour. No Dr. Hale. The next class, we walked in and there was a different guy in there. We all sat down and he explained that Dr. Hale had tried to kill himself and that he'd be gone for a few weeks. I was like "holy fucking shit!" If I remember correctly, class was canceled for about a week and then we came in expecting to see Dr. Hale, but there was this guy who wore a suit and a black wool trenchcoat, all asshole like. He was like "Sit down, everyone. It's time for class." The guy was a retired NOPD detective, which some of the nuts who were in this class thought was the greatest thing ever. I was like "So when is Dr. Hale coming back?" but Dr. Hale wasn't coming back.
I transferred to LSU after my sophomore year. Shortly after the semester began, I'd gotten word that Dr. Hale had killed himself although everyone I'd talked to pretty much expected that from attempt number 1. I called either Mac or Dustin (whom were both still going to school there but i can't remember which) and pleaded with them to bring me a copy of the Lions Roar to see the expose. I felt a little robbed that the world I lived in now lacked Dr. Bob Hale. Ok, that sounds all like he was my mentor or something but he really wasn't. It was just a weird feeling. You don't expect your teachers to commit suicide. That's what students with emo hangups do (cue the bathtub scene in The Rules of Attraction). I remember reading he had an infant son named David when I read the article. That kid has to be about 10 now, and he's probably headed for an insane future. I was sitting at me, Mac, and Dustin's apartment reading it, and if my life was like a tv show, this would be the end of an epidode. I looked up at Dustin and said "Wow. So the guy finally did it. I wonder... I wonder if he got Horseman first."
Dustin laughs.
Roll Credits.
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