When I was a young boy, my family used to go to Bangladesh to visit falling every summer.
In 1987, I was accused of stealing some money that had gone missing from my mom’s purse. She did everything short of water boarding me to get me to admit that I was a thief.
The next day, she pulled out one of her purses and the money was tucked away safely inside. When I expressed my desire for an apology, I was told that I was lucky to still be alive.
On that day, I realized that our innate sense of right and wrong is broken. As a result , I lost all faith in these allegedly impartial systems we rely on for “justice”.
Written on August 6, 2013