FROM: jonah.keller.84@gmail.com
TO: yesthatmace@gmail.com
DATE: Dec. 7, 2017
TIME: 2:17 p.m.
SUBJECT:
Dear Mace,
I did something stupid yesterday. I did it at three in the morning after finishing an entire bottle of Macallan 12. I did it because I thought maybe it would fix things and because I didn’t know what else to do. I did it because it wasn’t suicide.
I issued a public statement.
You have, by now, probably seen it. My grand mea culpa, typed in the Notes app of my iPhone, screen-grabbed, and tweeted. I passed out shortly after posting and did not wake up until eleven a.m. Already, the internet was hours deep into a referendum on my apology. My pounding hangover was quickly erased by sheer panic as I watched my Twitter feed fill with content dissecting the sincerity, timing, and phrasing of my statement.
The initial response was positive. A chorus of prominent voices came to my defense, with headlines like “Why We Should Forgive Jonah Keller” and “Jonah Keller’s Brave Statement Is a Test of Our #MeToo Moment.” I read each article, expecting catharsis, but felt nothing except rising panic. I had done it all backward. Exonerations given by anonymous internet pundits meant nothing to me. The only forgiveness I wanted was yours, Mace.
Yet you remained silent. Repeated requests for comment were declined.
By noon, the expected backlash started: “Why We Shouldn’t Be So Quick to Forgive Jonah Keller” and “Factions of LGBTQ Twitter Question Jonah Keller’s Apology.” The mob was led by Jessica Ronson, who was eager to protect the crown jewel of her outrage empire. Her argument killed me: “Sure, we can empathize with Jonah Keller’s agonizing position on the day of that trial. But does someone’s past abuse excuse bad behavior for the rest of their lives? Does someone’s personal trauma give them the right to inflict trauma on another human being? These are the vital questions that face the #MeToo movement at this juncture. Let us not forget the ways in which Mace Miller’s life and reputation were destroyed in the wake of this trial. And here’s another telling fact: Miller has refused to comment on this apology. If the victim has yet to forgive Jonah Keller, why should we?” The article currently has over 1.2 million shares and is the second-most-popular piece on PopCandy.net, just below a quiz about how your favorite flavor of ramen reveals your personality type.
By 12:30 p.m., there was backlash to the backlash: “How Can Anyone Attack Jonah Keller?” By 1:00 p.m., America had moved on to the Skirball fire—the inferno currently consuming Bel Air—and my story was abandoned in favor of pieces concerning the impacts of climate change.
By 1:30 p.m., I had no idea what my own apology meant anymore.
I’m lost, Mace. Which is why I’m writing to you now. I want to reconnect with reality. I want to remember my truth. I want to confess things the public could never understand.
I’ve attached a document to this e-mail. For years, I’ve been writing in it, unsure of what, exactly, it is. It tells the story of our past, our pain. And not just us—all the boys. Seb, Michael, and Chase too. It describes the things we lost that summer, the parts of ourselves we’ll never get back. I needed to record it all somewhere, to create an artifact, something to leave behind that said: This really happened. This matters. We matter.
Finally, today, I realized what this document is, what it has always been.
A letter to you.
I was always writing to you. At first, because you saved my life, because I needed some way, somewhere, to thank you. Then I wrote out of guilt. About the trial, my betrayal. And now I write to you with the hope that this letter can somehow lead to our reconciliation.
Not a day goes by that I don’t wonder what would’ve happened if I’d told the truth at Richard’s trial. Words can’t express my regret, can’t express the level of shame and sorrow and self-hatred I feel when I think of how I failed you. Given the length of the attached document, it’s ironic that language is ultimately insufficient. Still, I hope you can find some healing—or at least an explanation—in these pages.
Yours,
Jonah