I predicted his arrest but I didn’t publish it in writing. I am publishing this in writing: Zimmerman will be found guilty. He’s lying; he wasn’t attacked. The girlfriend’s account is the truth and it will be what sinks him. The prosecution already knows this; the defense should too. Zimmerman might even admit his guilt fairly soon, as the pressure on him must be intense. He’s lost a lot of weight from what I remember from the video, as well as from the photographs, taken of him right after the attack; and something in his expression seems like it might be fading, like someone who has started to become suddenly very scared. I heard on the news yesterday that someone witnessed him “weeping” in his cell (I think it may have been his brother). He is being slowly but steadily consumed by the massive and unrelenting realization that he is going to be revealed as guilty, and that he has, through a rash mistake, effectively destroyed his life forever. This may be a phase; he may decide to become obstinate and try to press on with his defense, similar to how Casey Anthony did, but everyone around him who knows the reality of what is going on should encourage him to dispose of the public spectacle. If he were truly as committed to the spirit of police work and justice as he says he is, he would know that he needs to spare the expense and media circus to the State of Florida and admit that he went up to Martin on a dark and rainy night, wrongly convinced for no as-yet-known-or-stated reason that Martin was a criminal (“up to no good,” in his own words), and that he invaded Martin’s personal space before getting swiftly sucker-punched and pummeled by the terrified teenager. Barring this, the defense must know that it will be made to look ridiculous if it goes to trial with Zimmerman’s counter-story, and that it will have absolutely no chance of convincing a jury of it whether the jury picked turns out to be racist or not. That Zimmerman is guilty of murder, and then of lying to police to cover it up, will be made clear. What may not be perfectly discernible is whether Zimmerman planned the killing ahead of time, or whether he was pursuing a fantasy of catching a criminal in the act and in the end went too far. At first I explored the possibility that Zimmerman was a calculating, possibly closet racist with a well-thought-out plan to manufacture a fight, kill a black youth, and then abuse the state’s “stand your ground” law to get away with it, but that argument started to become incredible fairly quickly. Now I’m confident that Zimmerman was, and still is, a basically good man who foolishly tried too hard to be a hero to his community by catching a criminal. Through the ignorant lens of racial profiling, Zimmerman convinced himself that he saw a “gangsta” casing good, law-abiding, mostly rich white peoples’ houses on a dark and rainy night; what he actually saw was an out-of-place black teenage boy carrying iced tea and Skittles, talking on a cellphone, and wearing a hoodie. When Zimmerman finally admits this mistake, all members of society who were quick to believe his tall tale would do well to learn from the lesson it holds. I’ve been mulling over the scant amount of evidence that’s been made public, and owing to the hefty amount of circumstantial evidence and the presumably one piece of physical evidence that I’ve thus far been able to infer from it, the fact that Zimmerman is lying is obvious to me beyond what I would consider, as a person of average common sense, to be a reasonable doubt. What I haven’t been able to find is anything that proves or even credibly suggests premeditation; and this is probably because this was a case of 2nd degree murder, where the dazed and confused killer panicked and told a lie to police officers in order to save his life from being permanently dashed to pieces within two minutes. This unintentional consequence of Zimmerman’s ill-advised approach of Martin, and the subsequent firing of his pistol out of genuine fear, is why Zimmerman walked down the sidewalk afterwards “with his face in his hands,” according to one eyewitness report. Martin yelled for help because he knew Zimmerman had a gun, and Martin was doing everything in his power to prevent Zimmerman from using it on him; Martin wrongly assumed that if he tried to run at the speed necessary to escape on the wet grass that he’d slip and be shot, but this assumption was incorrect only because he had no reason to believe at that point that the armed stalker’s approach was not to simply shoot him at point-blank range. Martin’s near-superhuman effort to both physically neutralize his armed assailant while screaming out for someone to intervene is what compelled Zimmerman to ultimately panic and fire the shot. Had even a single person the courage to walk outside their door, the incident might very well have fizzled once Martin broke off with a witness and Zimmerman regained his bearing. Zimmerman wanted to be a hero, ironically, to people who turned out to be too afraid to risk their own safety to protect their community from an invader. In the end, it could be said that Zimmerman was felled by the cowardice of the people he was willing to risk his own safety to protect. This self-preserving cowardice, ironically, is fittingly the flip side of the mortal flaw that Zimmerman used to doom himself: that sinister and subtle thread of racist fear that lives and thrives in so many of our veins, and which owes its existence, as Sagan noted in Cosmos, to one of the last surviving legacies of our reptilian ancestry, that oldest and innermost part of our brain known as the “R Complex” which blindly follows leaders and strikes out at anything unlike we. This ancient biological instinct to attack anything outside the self or group explains why we are plagued by prejudice and racism, or the fear of outsiders or “others:” at one time, our violent fear of anything unlike us helped us to survive. Eventually and likely concurrently, but definitely partly for lack of any legitimate natural predators, we turned this now-useless violent instinct onto ourselves: for our skin color, for our accents, for our mannerisms and customs, for our hoodies– more succinctly, for all the illogical and stupid excuses we use to simply hate. Zimmerman’s, and Martin’s, lives were casually ruined by that ancient part of our being which stubbornly refuses to throw off the ignorant behavior of our genetically-inherited inhumanity, and to transform into an essentially gentle and aware species that lives in harmony with all life on the planet and which recognizes the ultimate unsustainability of the craving for both the sacrifice of our species and the survival of it.