Do murderers deserve funerals?

The deceased looked dignified, or at least different from the kook who haunted everyone's nightmares for the last five decades. He was dressed in a charcoal jacket and orange shirt. White gloves hid his decomposed hands. His hair — once wild — was trimmed, and his eyes — once crazed — were now closed forever.

Were it not for the faded swastika on his forehead, Charles Manson could have passed for anyone's grandfather.

But he was Jason Freeman's grandfather, and with that burden came a responsibility. As a family member — a true family member, not a cultist — he felt he owed the most infamous criminal in American history a proper send-off. And so Freeman gave him one.

Which raises the question: Do murderers deserve funerals? Should ceremonies be held? Ashes scattered? Caskets cried on? Flowers placed? Scripture read? Relatives consoled? Should their lives be wrapped up neatly with a bow? Even after they left others to die in their own blood?

Manson, who was serving a life sentence for the 1969 Tate-LaBianca murders, died on November 19, 2017. He was 83. His funeral took place four months later after Freeman, who lives in Bradenton, was awarded the body by a California judge.

Manson's funeral was filmed for a documentary that airs Saturday night at 8 p.m. on Reelz. Though the service is the most intriguing part, the focus seems to be on Freeman, how he has dealt with being Manson's grandson and why he felt so compelled to give him a funeral many think he didn't deserve.

Freeman's father was Charles Manson Jr., who changed his name to Jay White and ultimately killed himself because he couldn't handle his lineage. Freeman said giving Manson a funeral was a way of breaking the chains, that he is someone different than his grandfather, a person involved in church and living his life for others.

"I want people to see the movie and understand that where there is death there is life," Freeman said. "I'm standing in the gap, and I'm breaking the cycle.

"From age 11-27, I was on probation. At 21 I was facing prison. My father killed himself, and my grandfather spent 50 years in prison. I'm breaking the cycle, and it needs to be known."

There are those who claim Freeman is trying to profit off Manson’s death and have put out videos attacking his credibility and motives. They insist he is a fraud, not a relative. Still, why would someone claim to be Charlie Manson's grandson? Who in their right mind would carry that burden voluntarily?

The film’s trailer looks intriguing, though it seems to make the easy inference that all of Manson’s followers are nuts, which isn't exactly groundbreaking stuff. Freeman said it took much cajoling to get Manson’s friends to agree to be filmed and is mindful of how they are portrayed, though the trailer does show a man walking up to Manson’s open casket, stroking his beard and saying "I love you, man." Freeman's wife then says she has never seen a grown man cry as hard.

It also shows a scene where Manson's ashes are being scattered in California and the wind blows them back and onto several people.

And the film is likely to show Freeman scattering more of Manson's ashes into the Gulf of Mexico somewhere between St. Petersburg and Bradenton as well.

Freeman, a devout Christian, said Manson had a cross tattooed above his ankle that no one ever saw, and that Manson made peace with God before he died.

So did Charles Manson, perhaps America's most notorious criminal, deserve a funeral or not?

One day, a few months ago, Freeman was standing in the parking lot of a Bradenton church, holding the urn that contained Manson's ashes. I touched the urn, and then asked Freeman if he thought Manson was in heaven. He said yes, and who was I to argue?

Then my phone rang.

I looked down.

The first three digits were 666.