The Time I Saw Drew Peterson at the Gym

In early 2009, I was doing my thing at my gym when I noticed a man and a young boy working with a trainer on the floor to my right. This stood out because, in my two years at that gym, I had never seen a child there. It was the kid that caught my attention first; there was something weirdly familiar about him. Then I shifted my attention to his father, who also looked like someone I'd seen him before. Gray-blond hair, beady, empty-soul eyes, and a 1990s baseball player goatee. Then I realized it was Drew Peterson. You know, the serial wife-murderer.

Later, in front of my computer, I Google image searched "Drew Peterson son" and confirmed the pair's identity. This did not explain why a family from Bolingbrook was at a gym in the heart of Chicago proper, but who was I to question their motives. Maybe they were tired of being hassled for being Petersons while they tried in vain to deadlift (har) in the suburbs. Or maybe Drew Peterson was looking for wife/victim number 6. Maybe the wife/victim number 6 was me!

A few days later I saw him again. He was son-less and he grabbed the only empty treadmill, leaving me with nothing to do but wait, staring at him. As he cranked it all the way up to a slow crawl (seriously, you'd think all that body-disposing would leave a man in better shape) he looked up and we locked eyes for a moment. I gave him my best "I know what you did" look. His eyes replied: "I'm untouchable, bitch."

A few days later he was arrested for the murder of Kathleen Salvio. And a few days after that, I locked eyes with Rob Blagojevich as he was jogging, snap-on hair steaming with sweat, in Ravenswood.