Two days after the not-guilty verdict was handed down to Casey Anthony, I find that I’m still thinking about it.

I’m not blaming the jurors here, I understand that they can only make a judgement based on the evidence presented by the prosecutors, who seemed to do a piss-poor job of managing the whole case. In my opinion, the lead prosecutor should be relieved of his current post and demoted.

No, rather I’m thinking about Caylee Anthony. I’m thinking about a little girl who had been missing for a month before her disappearance was reported. I’m thinking of a little girl who’s body was found buried in woods with duct tape round her mouth. I’m thinking of a little girl who’s only mistake was to happen to be born to a mother who didn’t appreciate the joys of having a child. As a woman desperate to have children of her own, the irony isn’t lost on me.

I want to know where God was when that little girl died?  I want to know who’s going to get justice for Caylee?

How can a little girl’s life come to an end so prematurely, yet nobody bears responsibility for her passing? She didn’t die from a terminal illness, or a fatal accident. She died because the person she trusted the most killed her, be it accidentally or otherwise, and quite frankly, nobody will ever be able to convince me that it was an accidental killing.

I felt sick when I learned what the verdict was, and now I just feel angry. The problem is, at whom can I aim that anger? Amidst the media circus, the half-truths, the lies, and the prevarications, nobody still seems to know exactly what happened to her. And the mother and the grandparents have just told lie, after lie, after lie.

One thing is clear though, she was alive and healthy, now she’s gone forever. A life cut short before it had barely begun. My heart weeps for the woman that she could have been, and the difference she could have made to the world.

I hope that Caylee gets the justice that she deserves one day. I really do.

RIP Caylee.