There Goes the Neighbourhood. Again.

Resurfacing like an unwelcome bout of herpes, Karla Homolka is back. I haven’t mentioned her on this blog in a very long time—not since she was about to get out of prison. She was thinking of moving to my neighbourhood, and reporters were coming to me of all people to see if I had exclusive news about this celebrity relocation. In the end, she apparently landed in Guelph, Ontario instead. But twelve years later someone has noticed…she’s baaaaaaack.

For those of you not up on your infamous Canadian serial killers, Karla and her husband Paul were the Barbie and Ken of sexual predators, kidnappers, and murderers. They were a charming, handsome, blood-spattered couple who did some horrible horrible shit they’ll never be forgiven for. Paul is still in prison and will likely never get out. Karla, however, was given a lighter sentence in exchange for testimony because an innocent little housewife couldn’t possibly be as responsible for these crimes as her monster husband. Except she was, as later post plea-bargain-deal evidence suggests. Oopsie.

Karla still doesn’t actually live in my neighbourhood. Apparently her new abode (to go with her new husband and kids) is in Châteauguay—which may be punishment enough for past sins. Nevertheless, she still comes to NDG to volunteer at her kids’ Christian school just one block over from my own home.

Gotta love those hard-line Christian institutions. They’re very big on forgiving child abuse. In the past, the were mostly into overlooking child rape. Now, they’re giving a pass to child rape AND murder. Very progressive.

This volunteer work has been going on since March, but now that the media has finally caught wind of it, the circus is back in town. Karla sightings are likely to become as frequent and verifiable as Sasquatch sightings. Try not to get caught being a blonde white woman if you’re shopping at the local Provigo. You might get some out-of-season produce launched at your head. Or canned goods, which tend to hurt more.

I remember the good old days in this neighbourhood when the only serial killers living among us were mafia enforcers and mob hatchet men. They mostly kept to themselves, and you wouldn’t hear a thing about them unless there was an arrest or a middle-of-the-night assassination via a hail of automatic gunfire. Salt of the earth.

I can’t imagine they’re very pleased to have Karla in town either, snooping around their kids. Torturing a snitch to death, dismembering the body, and dumping it in the river is one thing. But what she did was sick.

We deserve a better class of psychopath.

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