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Description
The air smelled of old books and dust. The scent of deep earth wafted from the brick-lined fountain in the courtyard. The empty corners of the church smelled almost sour like aged sickness. The warm, wet air coming from outside stung like inhaling baking soda. There was the faint smell of baby power.
An old woman cleared her throat. The muted click of high heels echoed on old brick. A weak fountain plashed. Tires of a car gripped the asphalt in the parking lot as the car turned. There was the jingle-clink of a ring of keys. Children sniffed their noses as their parents laughed politely.
Old, darkened double doors opened into a dim and cavernous space. The sky outside was blindingly bright and the sunlight fell in a soft rectangle onto the aged bricks. Dark red, cheap carpet lined the aisle between the pews, and it was faded slightly right down the middle. Tall, prison-like windows stood a few strides apart down the walls. Formally dressed people mingled, not staying in one place for too long. Three suited men stood in the foyer, greeting the people that came in groups of two or three. A few people sat, looking impatient and sleepy in the cherry pews.

He saw nothing but the dark blue, muted eyes of George Tiller. Raising the gun as he sauntered closer, the small eyes widened. Pressing the gun against the doctor's forehead, Scott Roeder spent the breadth of a heartbeat to revel in the weightlessness of his weapon, and as his victim's mouth turned down, he pulled the trigger.
Tension, tension, building in his chest. He watched the skin rip a little, the eyes roll blindly back, and the body fall to the ground like a bleeding, dancing leaf. His hand relaxed the moment the dead man froze on the ground, and he lowered the gun a few centimeters.
Only a few seconds passed before he raised the gun again to the two people standing in the foyer. He squinted his eyes and shook his head threateningly, left, right. Their faces were blank, nameless and insignificant in Scott's eyes. The tension in his chest released, a freed dove that had known only the bars of the cage. Dropping his hand by his side, Scott spun slowly and walked into the bitter sunlight and out of the church. He heard, like whispers, the squall of a baby and gasping wail of the churchgoers, who had come to witness the innocence of a baptism.
Jerking open his car door, he tossed the gun onto the passenger seat and calmly cracked his knuckles. Glancing in the rear view mirror while he turned the key in the ignition, he saw no one pursuing him. With a small, satisfied smile, he pulled out of the pale cement parking lot, and onto the wide, nearly empty street.
Two words spun around his head like the tires of the car: Kansas City. He drove slowly, a little below the speed limit of 35mph. The road was smooth and clear, just like his plans had been for the last decade. He thought about all the times he had stalked the abortion doctor, and the memories brought up a small chuckle.
It had been easier than he had thought, but then again, it was what the world needed. One less murderer of innocent unborn children. Hundreds less emotionally and physically pained women who would not become mothers. Thousands less "dead" babies who still had the power to draw a single breath in this world. Killing George Tiller was a killing of justice.
He pulled onto the freeway, and opened the window to allow the warm, muggy air to play over his face. He drove and drove, slowly and leisurely down the nearly empty stretch of road, meditating on what he had done.

George Tiller had claimed to abort over 60,000 babies. He had stated that no woman had ever been harmed at his clinic, and every single baby had been delivered without a heartbeat. He said that his clinic was open to women whose babies would be born with severe birth defects, or whose children would threaten their lives.
Anti-abortion protesters claim otherwise. There has been proof of women being taken off the clinic property by ambulance. An anonymous technician of George Tiller stated that, more often than not, the babies were delivered still alive with a heartbeat, and their deaths took place out of the womb.
Scott Roeder claimed that he killed the doctor to stop him from "killing more babies." In the eyes of anti-abortionists like him, embryos are also people, and have the right to live.
Abortion is legal. Abortion is the woman's choice. Killing to protect the unborn – is it justifiable? Is it right to take the life of someone who claims to save the life of others, even if it means that a child won't be born?
Scott Roeder admitted to shooting George Tiller at point-blank range, and was charged with first-degree murder. He faces life in prison for the crime. He claimed that he was defending the unborn children, yet the court convicted him. Does that prove that, in the eyes of the government, fetuses are not human beings?
Is there any way to truly know what is right and what is wrong? The opinion is up to the reader.

Description
The air smelled of old books and dust. The scent of deep earth wafted from the brick-lined fountain in the courtyard. The empty corners of the church smelled almost sour like aged sickness. The warm, wet air coming from outside stung like inhaling baking soda. There was the faint smell of baby power.
An old woman cleared her throat. The muted click of high heels echoed on old brick. A weak fountain plashed. Tires of a car gripped the asphalt in the parking lot as the car turned. There was the jingle-clink of a ring of keys. Children sniffed their noses as their parents laughed politely.
Old, darkened double doors opened into a dim and cavernous space. The sky outside was blindingly bright and the sunlight fell in a soft rectangle onto the aged bricks. Dark red, cheap carpet lined the aisle between the pews, and it was faded slightly right down the middle. Tall, prison-like windows stood a few strides apart down the walls. Formally dressed people mingled, not staying in one place for too long. Three suited men stood in the foyer, greeting the people that came in groups of two or three. A few people sat, looking impatient and sleepy in the cherry pews.

He saw nothing but the dark blue, muted eyes of George Tiller. Raising the gun as he sauntered closer, the small eyes widened. Pressing the gun against the doctor's forehead, Scott Roeder spent the breadth of a heartbeat to revel in the weightlessness of his weapon, and as his victim's mouth turned down, he pulled the trigger.
Tension, tension, building in his chest. He watched the skin rip a little, the eyes roll blindly back, and the body fall to the ground like a bleeding, dancing leaf. His hand relaxed the moment the dead man froze on the ground, and he lowered the gun a few centimeters.
Only a few seconds passed before he raised the gun again to the two people standing in the foyer. He squinted his eyes and shook his head threateningly, left, right. Their faces were blank, nameless and insignificant in Scott's eyes. The tension in his chest released, a freed dove that had known only the bars of the cage. Dropping his hand by his side, Scott spun slowly and walked into the bitter sunlight and out of the church. He heard, like whispers, the squall of a baby and gasping wail of the churchgoers, who had come to witness the innocence of a baptism.
Jerking open his car door, he tossed the gun onto the passenger seat and calmly cracked his knuckles. Glancing in the rear view mirror while he turned the key in the ignition, he saw no one pursuing him. With a small, satisfied smile, he pulled out of the pale cement parking lot, and onto the wide, nearly empty street.
Two words spun around his head like the tires of the car: Kansas City. He drove slowly, a little below the speed limit of 35mph. The road was smooth and clear, just like his plans had been for the last decade. He thought about all the times he had stalked the abortion doctor, and the memories brought up a small chuckle.
It had been easier than he had thought, but then again, it was what the world needed. One less murderer of innocent unborn children. Hundreds less emotionally and physically pained women who would not become mothers. Thousands less "dead" babies who still had the power to draw a single breath in this world. Killing George Tiller was a killing of justice.
He pulled onto the freeway, and opened the window to allow the warm, muggy air to play over his face. He drove and drove, slowly and leisurely down the nearly empty stretch of road, meditating on what he had done.

George Tiller had claimed to abort over 60,000 babies. He had stated that no woman had ever been harmed at his clinic, and every single baby had been delivered without a heartbeat. He said that his clinic was open to women whose babies would be born with severe birth defects, or whose children would threaten their lives.
Anti-abortion protesters claim otherwise. There has been proof of women being taken off the clinic property by ambulance. An anonymous technician of George Tiller stated that, more often than not, the babies were delivered still alive with a heartbeat, and their deaths took place out of the womb.
Scott Roeder claimed that he killed the doctor to stop him from "killing more babies." In the eyes of anti-abortionists like him, embryos are also people, and have the right to live.
Abortion is legal. Abortion is the woman's choice. Killing to protect the unborn – is it justifiable? Is it right to take the life of someone who claims to save the life of others, even if it means that a child won't be born?
Scott Roeder admitted to shooting George Tiller at point-blank range, and was charged with first-degree murder. He faces life in prison for the crime. He claimed that he was defending the unborn children, yet the court convicted him. Does that prove that, in the eyes of the government, fetuses are not human beings?
Is there any way to truly know what is right and what is wrong? The opinion is up to the reader.