By Carol Lucas
Can there be anyone in the state of South Carolina, or the country for that matter, who did not follow the trial of Alex Murdaugh, whether it was daily or intermittently? Live coverage of this drama became the focus of many television stations for at least two weeks or more, and those included nationwide distribution.
What the nation saw was coverage of a murder trial; what South Carolina observed was the continuation of a saga beginning long before, a story with so many convolutions as to boggle the mind and strain the boundaries of coincidence. I had friends from several parts of the country text or email me regarding what they were reading and seeing. What more did I know? What were the locals saying?
Certainly I could not convey any more than what I was seeing on the screen myself, and while I admit to being tempted to make a morning trip to Walterboro, I never gave in to that temptation.
The first time I became aware of the Murdaugh name was in 2019. The horrific boat accident that took the life of young Mallory Beach was attributed to Paul Murdaugh’s reckless driving of the boat while under the influence of alcohol. Departure of that fatal boat ride was from downtown Beaufort, and so our town became part of the story.
This was covered daily in the local newspaper, and as information became more readily available, it was apparent that this was a family used to manipulating justice to their advantage when needed. Young Paul was whisked away from the hospital by his father, Alex, before police could question him in depth; Alex was seen with a sheriff’s badge dangling from his back pocket at the hospital; that Alex Murdaugh had blue “police lights” installed in his car, despite the fact that he is not a police officer, caused additional commentary regarding his sense of entitlement.
As more light was shed on this case, other scenarios began to unfold like a fine piece of origami. A housekeeper who was said to have helped raise both Paul and Buster was a victim of a fall at the Murdaugh residence. Sadly, she died, but the story was even more convoluted when it became known that Alex persuaded the family to file an insurance claim, naming him in the suit, and passing it on to a fellow-litigator, all the while planning to keep the insurance money for himself. The case of a young teen who was the victim of a hit-and-run was reopened with ties to the Murdaugh name. I could enumerate the additional monetary scandals in which this man was embroiled, but by now we know all about them, and have heard Alex Murdaugh confess to the fact that this became his “modus operandi.”
Another high-profile, “national” case in South Carolina was that of Susan Smith, the young mother who murdered her two children by drowning them in 1994. At first she blamed the deaths on a car-jacking by an anonymous man. Eventually, she admitted it was she who drove the vehicle to the lake, letting it back into the water with her children aboard.
One speculation at the time was that her affair with a prominent wealthy man could not accommodate children. Thus she made a choice.
At the time I was still teaching in Pennsylvania and, coincidentally, was dealing with the Greek tragedy, Medea. My students came to class on Monday, after the Smith story broke over the weekend, ready to tie this centuries-old play to modern day happenings. Even though I was saddened to think of someone taking the lives of her own children, I encouraged my students to talk about this.
Now at this point, you might ask what possible connection there is among the characters of Susan Smith, Alex Murdaugh, and those in a Greek tragedy. Please bear with me.
Euripides’ play, Medea, was first produced in 431 B.C. The abbreviated rendition of the play is this: Jason (of Golden Fleece fame) leaves Medea and their children for another woman so that he might elevate his own status. Medea, the master of manipulation, extorts her revenge by killing their children, believing this was what would hurt Jason most. Says one translator, E.P. Coleridge, “In the character of Medea, we see a woman whose suffering, instead of ennobling her, has made her into a monster.”
A monster! If you watched the sentencing of Alex Murdaugh, you know that the Judge used this precise word. The play Medea explores the human traits of passion and rage; can there be two better words to describe what surely must have overtaken Alex Murdaugh to the extent that he, much like Medea, became consumed in the paranoia (Murdaugh’s often-used word to describe his opioid addiction) that led to the death of people he claims to have loved?
The word hubris comes to mind. It is defined as excessive pride and self-confidence; another source takes it up a notch and states that hubris is “dangerous overconfidence.” It is exactly this that brought down the main characters in all of these dramas, thinking they were above retribution, using anything they felt was a valid means to an end. Justice, however, overrode hubris, something we all should appreciate.
There is little doubt in my mind that Alex Murdaugh knows that he killed his wife and son in a fit of passion/rage/paranoia. He will probably continue to claim his innocence, if for no other reason than his verdict is sure to be appealed.
Furthermore, as was suggested by the Judge, only he will be confronted by the faces of his wife and son at night when he tries to sleep. They know, Alex knows, and God knows. All of us have an opinion, but at the end of the day, the opinions of 12 South Carolinians were what mattered.
Carol Lucas is a retired high school teacher and a Lady’s Island resident. She is the author of the recently published “A Breath Away: One Woman’s Journey Through Widowhood.”
