John Montgomery Presents This Week's	September 30, 2000	Creep Logo by Alan Fraser
	Mark David Chapman
	Imagine There's No Parole

Hard to believe it was 20 years ago. The alarm went off at 6 AM, as usual, and "Strawberry Fields" was playing on the radio. It was always one of my favorite Beatles' songs, so it gave me a good excuse to stay in bed for a few more minutes. Then they played "In My Life" and "Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds", followed by "Imagine". By that time, I knew something unusual was going on and I wondered if maybe it was John Lennon's birthday or something.

Unfortunately, it was Or Something. When the DJ, who normally sounded like a manic, silver-tongued, snake oil salesman, finally began talking, he could hardly choke out the words. John Lennon had been shot and killed the night before by someone described as a "crazed fan". Not hardly. I was a crazed fan. Mark David Chapman was just one more raving lunatic with a bug up his ass and a gun in his hand.

When something as grotesquely awful as that happens, I need some kind of explanation if I'm ever going to be able to sleep again. I want to know why. Most killers have their reasons, however bizarre they might be. For example, I can understand why OJ Simpson killed his ex-wife. I don't condone or sympathize, but I do understand the train of thought that would cause a possessive, self-centered pig like him to grab a knife and start slashing throats.

However, I've never understood John Lennon's murder. And Mark's meandering, cockamamie explanations haven't helped. "There was no emotion in my blood. There was no anger. There was nothing. It was dead silence in my brain. Dead, cold quiet, until he walked up. He looked at me. . . . he walked past me and then I heard in my head. It said, 'Do it, do it, do it,' over and over again." That doesn't satisfy my Quest for Why. Neither does, "I think the main problem was that my father never talked about life or problems. And I guess the more I look back on it, I didn't feel any love from him. Perhaps I was getting him back, killing John Lennon, ruining my life as well.''

Anyone looking for some expert opinions on this can find a cacophony of crackpot conspiracy theories on the Internet: The CIA did it. Yoko did it. Paul McCartney did it. And of course, Bill and Hillary did it.

None of that helps me, either. No, what I needed to hear from Mark was something along the lines of, "I killed him because he's responsible for all the immoral sex, drugs and rock & roll in the sixties." Or, "Every time Yoko starts making those sheep-like bleating noises, I just want to kill somebody!" With an explanation like that, I could have cried out, "You sick, psycho son-of-a-bitch, why didn't you just slip a headless walrus into his bed?" Then I'd have put on "Abbey Road", indulged in some recreational substances, contemplated the music I'd never hear and the Beatles' reunion I'd never see, and spent the next three days in bed.

But back to reality. The twentieth anniversary of this travesty isn't just an occasion for flashback memories - it also means that Mark, who was sentenced to life in prison, is now up for parole. If the crime had occurred in George W Bush's Texas, Mark would have been fried years ago. Instead, we all had to endure Mark's pleas for release that were popping up all over the media this week. "I could never dream of hurting another person that way now. It's not going to happen. It's just not going to happen.'' Makes me feel a whole lot safer. And what would John think? "I think he would be liberal. I think he would care. I think he would probably want to see me released.'' Elliot Mintz, Yoko's spokesman, was unbelievably restrained: "John would have loved to have been here to speak for himself.''

No, I think Mark would be much better off, not to mention safer, in prison. We've moved well beyond the peace and love philosophy John advocated. When guns and rock & roll mix in today's world, it's done by the likes of Ted Nugent. Come to think of it, Ted would make an ideal parole officer for Mark. He'd handcuff Mark up to that guy who attacked George Harrison last year, give them Beatles' masks and a pile of weapons, and let the fun begin. I know I'd enjoy watching that. I bet Paul and Ringo would, too.

You may say I'm a dreamer but I'm not the only one.