Can You Even Say You've Truly Been Upset Over A Loss If You Haven't Stabbed Your Stepmother Over It?
BustedCoverage- Austin police say Pontrey Jones murdered his stepmom after she gloated about the Cowboys victory over the Buccaneers. The murder allegedly took place at about 10:40, just 12 minutes after Maggie Ruiz posted “WAY TO GO DALLAS” on Facebook.
That’s when this happened, according to the arrest affidavit:
Jones told officers he had initially decided to break his little sister’s neck, but after changing his mind he had “developed a plan against” the victim, stashing a black-handled knife in the living room couch.
Police say Jones’ father and the victim watch the Cowboys game on the couch and, when the game was done and Jones had returned from getting fresh air, he noticed the victim was “disrespecting his father and gloating about how the Cowboys won the game.”
According to police, that’s Jones retrieved the knife, walked behind the couch, lunged over Ruiz and stabbed her multiple times. Her husband intervened to stop the attack and Jones then fled the apartment.
And just when you thought you had begun to let disappointing outcomes on Sundays effect your mood a little too much, some "savior" (loosest posssible definition) comes out from behind the living room couch wielding a deadly weapon and gives us all an undeniable rationalization of our sports-induced depression. I gotta tell you, I feel much better about being an irritable asshole that takes his frustrations out on those around him after Iearning that there some people out there stashing shanks in couch cushions on the off chance they need a vehicle for their anger if the game doesn't go how they wanted. Let's be honest, aren't we all just looking for someone that we can point to and say "look, at least I'm not that bad!"? Sure, walking around feeling like an emotionless shell of a human being in response to a bunch of athletes you don't know coming up short in competition seems childish. That is...until you compare it to murdering your stepmother on behalf of your father's love for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Almost makes me feel inclined to spike the remote on the ground and punch a hole in the wall the next time the Saints turn an inevitable victory into a soul crushing loss. It would almost be disrespectful not to use the leeway that Pontrey Jones granted me to be a petulant child when my team lets me down.
You know what's crazy, the fact that this was over sports probably made it more likely to end up fatal. I'm sure the husband was relatively quick to act when his son pounced on his wife, but something tells me he would have been just a tad bit quicker if he hadn't spent the last twelve minutes having the proverbial knife twisted by a shit talking significant other. For at least one second he thought "good, at least that will shut her ass up" until he saw the light reflect off the blade of a dagger, had to find all the empathy that left his body when the clock hit zero, and tried to restrain his psychopathic offspring just a little too late.
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