Chris Carrier of Coral Gables, Florida, was abducted when he was 10 years old. His kidnapper, angry with the boy's family, burned him with cigarettes, stabbed him numerous times with an ice pick, then shot him in the head and left him to die in the Everglades. Remarkably, the boy survived, though he lost sight in one eye. No one was ever arrested.
Recently, a man confessed to the crime. Carrier, now a youth minister, went to see him.
He found David McAllister, a 77-year-old ex-convict, frail and blind, living in a North Miami Beach nursing home. Carrier began visiting often, reading to McAllister from the Bible and praying with him. His ministry opened the door for McAllister to make a profession of faith.
No arrest is forthcoming; after twenty-two years, the statute of limitations on the crime is long past. In Christian Reader (Jan/Feb 98), Carrier says, "While many people can't understand how I could forgive David McAllister, from my point of view I couldn't not forgive him. If I'd chosen to hate him all these years, or spent my life looking for revenge, then I wouldn't be the man I am today, the man my wife and children love, the man God has helped me to be."
Leadership Journal
Spring 1998, Vol.XIX, No. 2, p. 73
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More complete version from "Why Forgive?" by Johann Christoph Arnold, http://www.plough.com/usa/spiritual/why_forgive/sample.htm
When Miami native Chris Carrier was ten, a former family employee abducted him, assaulted him, shot him in the head, and left him to die in the Florida Everglades. But that isn't the end of the story:
Friday, December 20, 1974, was no ordinary day. It was the
last day of school before the Christmas holidays, and we
got out early.
I stepped off the bus at 1:15 p.m. and began to walk home.
An older-looking man who happened to be walking towards me
on the sidewalk appeared to recognize me. Just two houses
away from home, he introduced himself as a friend of my
father. He told me he was hosting a party for my father and
asked if I would help him with some decorations.
I agreed and walked back up the street with him to the
local youth center where he had parked his motor home. Once
inside the vehicle, I put down my things and made myself
comfortable.
The Miami I knew quickly disappeared as he drove north. In
an area removed from suburban traffic, he stopped on the
side of the road. He claimed that he had missed a turn. He
handed me a map, instructing me to look for a certain
number, and went into the back of the motor home "to get
something."
As I studied the map and waited, I felt a quick sting in
the shoulder, and then another. I turned around to see him
standing behind me with an ice pick in his hand. Then he
pulled me out of my seat and onto the floor. Kneeling over
me, he stabbed me in the chest several times. I pleaded
with him to stop and promised him that if he would let me
go, I wouldn't say anything.
I was immeasurably relieved when he stood up. He told me
that he was going to drop me off somewhere, after which he
would call my father and let him know where I was. He
allowed me to sit in the back of the motor home as he
drove. Yet I was painfully aware that this situation was
beyond my control. When I asked him why he was doing this
to me, he said that my father had "cost him a great deal of
money."
After driving for another hour or so, he turned onto a
dusty side road. He told me this was where my father would
pick me up. We walked out together into the bushes and I
sat down where he told me I should sit. The last thing I
remembered was him walking away.
Six days later, the evening of December 26, Chris was found by a local deer hunter. His head was bloody and his eyes were black. He had been shot through the head. Miraculously, there was no brain damage, but he didn't remember being shot.
In the years that followed, Chris struggled daily with the insecurity of knowing that his abductor was still at large.
Everywhere I went, the fear of what was around the corner,
what was lurking in the shadows, haunted me. I was alarmed
by every noise and motion. Was that a dog? What was that -
is it really just the wind? What was that creak in the next
room? Was someone coming in our back door? For three years
I spent every night without fail in a sleeping bag at the
foot of my parents' bed.
Chris also had to come to terms with the physical limitations caused by his injuries: he was now blind in one eye and could no longer take part in contact sports. And as any teenager would, he worried about his appearance.
Chris resented public mention of his survival, and remembers wondering how this "miracle" could have left him so miserable. Then, at the age of thirteen, he underwent a change, and began to see his nightmare differently. He realized his injuries could have been much worse - in fact, he could have died. He also recognized that staying angry would never change anything. He decided to stop feeling sorry for himself, and to get on with his life instead.
Then, on September 3, 1996, Chris received a telephone call that changed his life once again. It was a detective from the Coral Gables police department, and he was calling to notify him that an elderly man at a local nursing home, David McAllister, had confessed to being his abductor. (He was, though in the eyes of the law there was never enough evidence to bring him to trial.) David had worked as an aide for an elderly uncle in the Carrier family, but had been fired on account of his drinking problems. Chris visited David the following day.
It was an awkward moment, walking into his room, but as
soon as I saw him I was overwhelmed with compassion. The
man I found was not an intimidating kidnapper, but a frail
seventy-seven-year-old who had been blind for the last
half-dozen years.
David's body was ruined by alcoholism and smoking - he
weighed little more than sixty pounds. He had no family, or
if he did, they wanted nothing to do with him, and no
friends. The only material possessions he had were some
pictures that kids in a nearby elementary school had drawn
for him. David had a roommate, but they didn't even know
each other or communicate. Here was a man who faced death
with only his regrets to keep him company.
When I first spoke to David, he was rather callous. I
suppose he thought I was a police officer. A friend who had
accompanied me wisely asked him a few simple questions that
led to him admitting that he had abducted me. He then
asked, "Did you ever wish you could tell that young boy
that you were sorry for what you did?" David answered
emphatically, "I wish I could." That was when I introduced
myself to him.
Unable to see, David clasped my hand and told me he was
sorry for what he had done to me. As he did, I looked down
at him, and it came over me like a wave: Why should anyone
have to face death without family, friends, the joy of life
- without hope? I couldn't do anything but offer him my
forgiveness and friendship.
In the days that followed this dramatic meeting, Chris began to visit David as often as he could, usually bringing along his wife, Leslie, and their two daughters. The two men spent hours talking, reading, and even praying together, and as they did, the old man's hardness gradually melted away.
Throughout that week I shared with him about the victories
of my recovery, and about my life since the horrifying day
he had tried to kill me. I'd graduated from high school,
from college, and then from grad school. I had married; I
had a beautiful wife and family. I shared these things with
him so that he could understand, in the way the ancient
Israelite Joseph tried to get his brothers to understand,
after they had abandoned him, "That which you intended for
evil, God has used for good." I let him know that he had
not ruined my life, in the end, and that there was nothing
between us now.
Three weeks later, just hours after Chris had tucked his ailing friend into bed for the night, David died.
Chris says it wasn't hard for him to forgive, though the reporters who later took interest in his story still don't understand how or why he did it. They admire his ability to forgive, but cannot understand what compelled him. They always go blank when the subject of forgiveness comes up, he says, and seem more comfortable focusing on the drama of his abduction and the details of his torture. But Chris knows why he forgave David:
There is a very pragmatic reason for forgiving. When we are
wronged, we can either respond by seeking revenge, or we
can forgive. If we choose revenge, our lives will be
consumed by anger. When vengeance is served, it leaves one
empty. Anger is a hard urge to satisfy and can become
habitual. But forgiveness allows us to move on.
There is also a more compelling reason to forgive.
Forgiveness is a gift - it is mercy. It is a gift that I
have received and also given away. In both cases, it has
been completely satisfying.
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