Fifty-four years ago in Saudi Arabia, a little boy was born.
His bright young mind was poisoned by a dogmatized rejection of common human dignity. He was molded into a conduit of hate. By the time he was killed by his enemies, he had become a wellspring of that poison.
I mourn the loss of the helpful person that little boy could have become, of the profound gift his talents could have been to the world. But that loss was long ago.
My answer to this crime, this cancer of the human spirit, this turning of life against itself, is a plan I have been executing for fifteen years.
I am raising my sons to be good people.