How does me reflecting on the impact he’s had on my life and my family help him? How does me delighting in his comeuppance and drawing attention to his years of bad behavior help him? My joy at his suffering is immature, I’ll admit it, but I think I make it pretty clear in this piece that I don’t endorse those kinds of feelings. This is a confessional narrative not a persuasive essay. I feel how I feel, and some of those feelings are decades old and reflect the maturity level I had when I first encountered him. I don’t see any conceivable way in which writing this could benefit him, at all.