Two days ago, my Facebook started lighting up bright and early with news that a murder happened in my neighborhood. I searched the local news sites and found a developing story about a woman found dead in her home and also a man found dead from a self-inflicted gunshot in a nearby park. A picture included in one of the stories showed a street not far from my home where a friend of mine lives.
I was scared for a bit. I waited to see the news at noon and saw it was a home close to hers. Not hers. Relief. But still freaked out.
I drove by the road a little later on my way to do errands. There were cop cars, yellow tape, and news trucks everywhere.
They reported that it was probably a domestic violence situation.
On my way back home, I drove by again. This time, I saw the dressed up and made up news anchors standing on a corner I’ve driven by a million times. I felt kinda agitated looking at them, all dolled up and waiting to go live and tell the story of a poor girl…a mom…whose boyfriend shot her and then went and shot himself.
But then again, I guess I was one of the people waiting to hear them say what exactly went down, you know?
Last Friday the same thing happened in a small town near my hometown. The boyfriend killed his girlfriend, a co-worker, a policeman and then himself.
I’m not sure I know why I’m writing about this. I realize if I think about it, I hear about this kind of thing happening pretty much every day. This last event so close to my home was a real kick in the head.
So that young mom went to bed on Mother’s Day night and that was the end of it for her.
My brain thinks there has to be a way to make this kind of thing stop.
Aren’t we smarter than this?
I guess maybe we aren’t.
At least not yet.