Several readers have asked me why I write about Diane Schuler when my main theme is about business writing and rhetoric. Before when they asked me, I couldn’t give them any better answer than there was something about the whole story that was riveting, compelling, and false. Something was missing, something big. And thus I wrote to find understanding. I do believe I now have it.
I ask you to take a brief journey to check out the surveillance video of when Diane stopped at a gas station and went in looking for analgesics for her excruciatingly painful tooth.
Ponder a moment. What did you see? Did you see what I saw?
I was shocked. I did NOT see the pretty woman in the white suit, standing next to her husband, both wearing broad smiles. I did NOT see the cute mother in sunglasses surrounded by her beautiful children and handsome husband.
What I DID see was a surprisingly big woman, a woman who walked into that convenience store with an almost masculine stride, a woman who left the store empty handed and went back to her red minivan where she evidently did something that took quite some time: settle the children? Rearrange stuff in the car? Drink a significant amount of vodka?
After this seemingly long pause, I saw a red minivan pull out quite purposefully, and head out to the main road where, it appeared to me, Diane pulled right out in front of an ongoing vehicle. Help me, did I see this right? Am I mistaken?
Here’s what I am thinking. I am thinking that Diane was pissed — mega-pissed — when that convenience store did not have any pain meds. From that point on, her anger took over. Think about the reports of her aggressive and erratic driving — honking, lights flashing, tailgating, dangerous passing. Aren’t these the kinds of things characteristic of road rage? In her state of red and irrational anger, she drank, and she drank, and she drank some more. And as she poured liquid fire down her throat, it was an antidote to her anger, until it wasn’t.
Let me say that I think Diane Schuler’s husband, Danny, and his lawyer, Dominic Barbara (where’s he been lately?) painted an extraordinarily un-Diane picture so we would all keep shaking our heads wondering what wasn’t feeling right about all of this. I read somewhere else recently where Diane was at times brusque and abrasive. She was the breadwinner — earning over $100,000 per year while poor Danny slugged away at $48,000 as a night patrol person in local parks. Her sister-in-law, Danny’s sister, admitted several weeks ago that Diane smoked pot every day and that she was a heavy drinker. This Diane is the round peg, round hole answer to the puzzle.
So why the ruse? Many reasons, the insurance — surely Danny is now terrified wondering how he will support himself and his surviving child, Danny’s denial and desperate need to keep Diane as his wonder woman, the family’s real desire to keep Diane’s name from being blackened for the same of her son, and many, many, more.
But in the meantime, the Bastardi family who seeks the truth, who NEEDS to truth to put closure to their nightmare of death, must dwell in a cesspool of their own anger, anger that will never truly mitigate until they have found their round peg and round hole. God bless, you, Bastardi family.