Judith 1

Usually the police obtain neither that quantity nor quality of witness testimony. After all, any sane witness prefers to vanish into the night. But this time the desk clerk in the hot sheets hotel had reacted quickly. Perhaps he was already in some police problems.
The upshot, there were no actual eye witnesses. Walls being as thin as they were, six hookers and five Johns were summoned as witnesses. The sixth John got off easy. Being totally stone deaf, he could honestly assert he had heard nothing.
The witnesses all agree the noise level was very loud. The John, obviously rather drunk. The hooker, sounded high on drugs.
They were arguing about monetary recompense until she ran out of patience, fatally stabbed him.
Now this itself is humorous enough to attract the prurient interest of the press. What made it worse, the John happened to be a member of an ethnic group noted for trying to get everything at wholesale.
Both local papers, the TV, radio talk shows were full of all this. Soon picked up by the national press.
Now usually stuff like this is just funny. Except of course when it happens to your husband.
I only dared to go to synagogue once after all the story broke loose.
The sheer two-faced hypocrisy shook me. On one hand, the sober sad look, the oh so sorry you're recently widowed routine. On the other, the wicked twinkle of glee that says you were being laughed at until within earshot.
At first I hate the lot of them. Gradually I come to realize, you'd get the same reaction in a United Church of Canada congregation or one of any other denomination.
People are people, have a sense of humor. Still, I don't see it as fair that I am being laughed at.
In a sense, I get the best revenge there is. Already they were struggling monetarily. The heating bill (privatized) will be that much more difficult without input from me.
Keep at it people I think, just laugh a few more out the door and you won't have a synagogue anymore.