Murder in the operating room

I'm a doctor who murdered a man in the OR.
I lost my medical license and I'm behind bars.
The bastard took a life with his gun.
The person who he killed was my son.

He fooled the jury into believing that he was innocent.
I was so angry and I made sure that Hell was where he was sent.
When he killed my son, I was blinded by rage and devastation.
When I had that animal in the OR, I botched the operation.

I ask myself if others would do what I did and I believe they would.
When I saw that heartless monster flatline, it felt so damn good!
I was convicted of first degree murder and now I'm on death row.
If you're wondering if I'm sorry for what I did, the answer is no.

(This is a fictional poem.)