Why I Did It: Killing My Golf Pro
Real people, real life, real situations. Names have been changed.
“He wouldn’t stop telling me to keep my head down”
James, 42, admits that he was finally pushed over the edge by an admonishment that will be familiar to anyone who has ever tried, and failed, at golf.
“It was the constant taunting. The mocking. The fact that my head was already down as far as it could go. All of that together, it just made me snap. They found most of his frontal lobe in the ball-washer on the fourth tee. I forget where I buried the rest.”
“He trapped me in a burning room and locked the door”
Scott, 55 years old, has this to say about why he’s serving 25-to-life for murdering his local golf pro.
“We were sitting in his office shooting the shit when all of a sudden I started to smell smoke. I asked Ricky if he smelled it, too, but he just kept smiling at me like a jackass. Then I saw the flames licking up from underneath his desk. I panicked, got up from the chair, and grabbed the handle to his office door, but it was locked. Whirling around, I saw that bastard open wide and drop the key down his throat. I knew right away what I had to do.”
“My golf pro was an alligator”
Nelson, 27, relates the shocking discovery that the golf pro he had booked online for an in-person lesson was, in fact, a reptile.
“I mean, he was 100 percent alligator, you know what I mean? Not like an alligator centaur, not like a dude with one alligator leg or some bejanked teeth, I mean the full nine yards of alligator. If I hadn’t had that nine-iron ready when I stepped into his swamp shack, I don’t know if I’d be here talking to you today.”