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To this day, I can't say who is wrong in this story and who is right, who are criminals and who are victims, who are conspirators and who are the deceived.
I know all the facts: two people killed and two died under odd circumstances. I know that the two deaths were declared natural – but for me, considering the circumstances and the context, they still seem odd. On the other hand, I know not of a single fact that would allow reasonably doubt the conclusions reached by experts (some of whom were not related to Lithuania in any way).
I know that over the last two years – after Ūsas died under circumstances that seemed odd to me – the axis of the story shifted away from the four deaths and onto a fate of a little girl.
Trust the people to whom I voluntarily delegated the right to make decisions for me: judges, prosecutors, policemen, experts, children's rights specialists, psychologists, finally – ministers and MPs.
I also know that complicated relations between the girl's mother and Kedys were reported in the press as early as February 2007. I know that back then, the reports focused on conflicts, violence, Kedys' sister Venckienė and her husband, lawyer Venckus. But there was nothing about paedophilia or abusing the girl.
I know a fair deal about court proceedings and rulings that ensued. I've read many of them from beginning to end. I have scrutinized publicly available expert findings and letters written by the girl and her mother.
I also know what happened on 23 March 2012; I've carefully watched through all publicly-available filmed materials from the 17 May.
It would seem that I am sufficiently well-informed to at least be able to answer to myself all the questions that remain and to pass a final verdict.
But I cannot. Because even with all that information at my disposal, I still have doubts.
And then a simple and at the same time extremely complex dilemma arises: What to do next?
The answer is also very confusingly simple: Trust. Trust the people to whom I voluntarily delegated the right to make decisions for me: judges, prosecutors, policemen, experts, children's rights specialists, psychologists, finally – ministers and MPs. To put it simply, I have chosen to trust the state that I am a citizen of. Despite the fact that there are many things I don't like in that state, that I would change many things if I could, and that so many things happening in that state seem questionable.
I might be wrong in choosing this way. But in that case, I should probably blame no one but myself – I was the one who helped build the state I now live in. I elected the Parliament that passed those laws that now guide actions of judges, prosecutors, police officers, and children's rights specialists. I elected presidents who appointed the judges – who now pass rulings in civil and penal cases – and who signed off laws passed by the Parliament.
I know that I've always had the opportunity to vote differently than I did, I could have chosen not to vote at all, I could have protested when people I elected acted differently from what had I expected or wished. I also know that I have not used all the opportunities available to me.
And knowing all the above, I am surprised at people like Kuolys, Stoma, or Landsbergis, who, having had all the same opportunities but chosen not to trust the state, accept it so easily.
They could at least try. If they truly do not believe and do not trust.
