Missy Cann

Well, Michael, you ruined my life, okay?

Everything you touch turns to crap.

Okay.

You have no sense of how to please any woman.

I can't believe that once you wrote a phone message on my diploma and you used my daughter's christening gown as a bib when you ate ribs.

I mean, you're just completely an ass, Michael.

You're an ass.

My mother was not a headline, a statistic or a label.

You thought you took her voice, but you didn't know that she had people who loved her.

When Rex chose to take Martin's life, he didn't just take her from us.

He took my sense of safety.

He took my peace of mind.

He took the way I used to move through the world without fear.

In many ways, I became one of his victims too.

You are a pathetic man who thinks you're better than women.

You need to believe that sex workers are subhuman because you're a coward who takes out your own shortcomings on others.

I feel bad for you because your capacity for hate means that you can't possibly understand love, the purity of it, the kind of love I had and still have for my mother.

Seeing your last appearance and the way you smirked as you finally confessed to what you did to my mother proves that you need to be locked away for the safety of the community.

There are no words extreme enough to communicate the level of depravity within you.

You make me sick and I don't forgive you.