#caixialiao

On March 31st, 2015, Cai Xia Liao drugged and bound her former lover, threatened and beat him, then killed his grandson and wife. She had planned to kill his daughter as well, but was arrested before she could carry out that part of her plan. She waited ten hours for his wife to return home while he laid bound on the floor, slipping in and out of consciousness. At some point during her wait, she attacked his grandson with garden shears, fatally wounding the four year old. Hours later, she butchered his wife in the same manner and enthusiastically described the violence to her captive. Neighbors witnessed the murder, as it occurred in the driveway, and immediately called the police. Liao was arrested shortly after. She plead guilty to the murders and was sentenced to life imprisonment with a mandatory 32 years. The judge remarked that even in court, it appeared that she still had no grasp on the severity of what she had done. I’m including the real name of the murderess in this one, but omitting most defining characteristics and the names of the victims and their families. This is such a recent crime, so I feel the need to be a little more sensitive, but want to allow anyone who wishes to learn more to search for information on their own.

I’m a big fan of Korean horror movies. But reading about a crime that could easily be a plot pulled from one is jarring, to say the least.* I was hesitant about doing this character, but the more something confuses me, the more I’m drawn to learning about it. Unfortunately, this murder just took place a little over two years ago, and not much has been written about it outside of the typical news coverage. One of the main reasons I pushed myself to discover more with this one is a book I finished recently called “The Girls.” It’s by Emma Cline and tells a fictionalized version of the Manson murders from the point of view of a woman who was just a girl when the murders took place. She had been close with the girls who committed the murder, a girl named Suzanne in particular, and avoided being a part of it almost by chance. Her inner dialogue is what got me, though. She’s a bit flawed and extremely paranoid, but she does instill the feeling that it’s a wonder more women don’t commit murder. All the random public groping, lewd comments, being told how we should and shouldn’t act by people we think are on our side, and the never ending expectation to please everyone. Rage is a common emotion, but repressing it is a skill most of us pick up at an early age and hone throughout our lives. She wonders how easy it would have been for her to unleash this rage on that innocent family. There are no excuses for these crimes. Both Suzanne and the woman in this next story killed young children because of an obsession over a man. They aren’t good people, or even somewhat sympathetic, and unlike a lot of the women I write about, it isn’t easy to see why they did what they did. But it’s precisely why I think they’re so important to talk about. None of us are above becoming monsters. Its important to think about where all that repressed rage comes from and how easily it could be unleashed. It really puts in perspective how important it is to address the roots of our anger. *Just an FYI: This crime didn’t happen in Korea, but if you’re familiar with any of the big movies in this genre, you’ll quickly realize why I drew that comparison.

I gave him fair warning. “I can’t live a normal life like everybody else,” I told him, “I am filled with hate.” I was even more direct at times: “If you leave me I will get revenge: I will kill your wife.” None of this meant anything to the man. “Just be patient.” He told me. “Calm down.” If you tell a man you plan on killing his wife and all he does is tell you to calm down, at this point, he’s just encouraging you to do it. He did nothing to stop me. Didn’t call the police, didn’t apply for a restraining order, did nothing at all. Not a damn thing. In fact, he did the one thing that is guaranteed to escalate an angry woman’s furor — telling her to “calm down.”

We had met while he was separated from his wife. He promised me a new life, a marriage, the ability to live closer to my grown children. He made plenty of grand promises, but, as with most promises made by horny men, they fell through. We were together for a few years and I loved him, I had grown attached to him. I thought he loved me too, but suddenly he was back with his wife and I meant nothing. I was tossed aside like an old newspaper.

“If she doesn’t die,” I told him, “there’ll be big issues.” He told me to go home. I said to him “I’m not going home, I’ll come and kill her if she stays in this house. If you keep her as your wife. I’m going to the supermarket, I’m buying a few big knives, and I’ll run straight back here, darling.” Are you curious how he responded to such a threat? This slimy son of a bitch looks at me And says, “Don’t be mad. Just be patient.” Patient for what? For you to divorce your wife, to stop dicking around with my emotions, or for you to finally grow some balls and talk to me about your true emotions? No, I could not be patient. I could no longer tolerate his slimey, deceitful ways. I wanted him to suffer.

Everything I did was because of him. I may have committed the crimes, but he drove me to do it. He forced me to act the way I did — my thinking, my actions, my behavior. It was all because of his callousness. “What you’re going to see,” I warned, “will be most tragic, and it’s all because of you.” I suppose I should warn you as well, that this story will indeed be most tragic, but this is by no fault of your own, my dear listeners. You are all quite wonderful to me, taking the time to listen to my ramblings-on of a most terrible man.

Early one morning, I drove to his house and waited nearby. I watched as his wife got into her car and left for work. Soon after, I knocked on his door, asking if we could talk. He claims that I drugged him then, while he was asking me to leave — I suppose he wanted to place himself in the best possible light, but for me to spike his drink, I’d have to be in his house. He let me in, and I added a sedative to his tea while he was checking on his grandson.

He came to some time later, lying on the lounge room floor, mouth stuffed with a rag, and his arms and legs bound with simple masking tape. He could have easily broken free, but the sedative seemed to be having an effect on him. So he repeatedly slipped in and out of consciousness.