It's Never a Decision, Never a Choice
What I understood then but couldn't articulate was this—it's genuinely difficult to live knowing you can do things without ever considering the consequences. "Show no fear" is the underlying governing rule. Not difficult in the way a person struggles against temptation. Difficult in a different and harder way.
It was never a decision. There was never a choice. Not a lapse in judgement. Not a moral failure in the moment. Many times, I never reached the decision-making part of my brain at all. That's what makes it a mechanism and not a character flaw. That's what separates my story from every other crime confession ever written.
There was no moment where I weighed the options and chose wrong. The part of my brain where that calculation happened was never consulted. Actions happened outside of it entirely. That's what compartmentalization at this level actually means. Not weak willpower. Not poor judgment. A mechanism so complete, it bypassed judgment altogether.
I sometimes can't help but think I'm a scary person. Never fully knowing what I might do. Never fully knowing what I am capable of.
That’s the cost of self-awareness without a cure. Most people who do terrible things never arrive at that statement. I live there. That's not a weakness. That's the rarest kind of honesty.
What kept me out of the worst of it in my later years was not rehabilitation or therapy or a spiritual awakening. It was Helen. It was my children. They became the consequences my brain couldn't generate on its own. I couldn't afford trouble that would hurt them or take me away from them. That thought reached me when nothing else did.
That's something hard to live with—needing to be vigilant against yourself. Needing to stand guard over your own behavior not because you don't know right from wrong, but because the mechanism is still there.
Mr. Hyde’s still present. I said that in my memoir. This’s what that means in daily life.
He could still be dangerous. Thank God Jekyll is now in control. Thank God for Helen and my children.
A note added in reflection:
When I wrote this, a few months ago, every word was true. Reading it now, something has shifted—and I want to be precise about that.
There was a time it was never a choice. A time it was never a decision.
Mr. Hyde's moral compass changed a long time ago. But a changed moral compass didn't stop me from living on the edge. It just changed the nature of the edge.
What I feel now is different. I’m getting a grip on him. Not just his compass—him, Hyde. That's new territory. I consciously don't break laws anymore. Haven't for a long time. But I’m still impulsive. I speak before I think. I can act without much forethought. I work to stay out of situations that could go wrong—but that doesn't always happen.
The mechanism is still there. I'm just more in charge of it than I ever have been. And when it happens, I can recognize it sooner.
That’s something I couldn't have written the first time I had this insight. The spiral keeps turning.
Benjamin F Sautter