OPINIONS: The worst of all options

A murder case takes on its own life in a community. There are discussions in offices and online about motives, if the killing was premeditated or a crime of passion. In this case, there’s plenty of speculation about Zinkhan’s own death, whether he simply sought to vanish from the world in utter shame or whether it was an act of defiance. For as long as he was missing, those around him were robbed of closure. And his disappearance created a headline-grabbing mystery that he likely understood as he put the shovel in the ground.

I think of how there are books, movies, television shows — whole genres of entertainment — devoted to violent crime. The murder mystery is a staple of modern storytelling. And it is a casual thing for us to ponder the unthinkable for a stranger. I don’t exclude myself from that. For instance, I sometimes sit down with a meal on my lap and flip to Forensic Files. It is intriguing, these horrifying and sad mysteries solved before my eyes. We are sickened by our interest in morbid matters and reflexively blame the marketer for the product. Of course, in some cases, blame is well justified, but the person who won’t admit a certain fascination when they observe compelling crime stories at a comfortable remove is probably not being very honest.

But there were two key words in that last sentence: comfortable remove. The closer the violence gets, the less of that there is. The murder mystery, the television show, even the news we read and see carry a fictional element in our minds. It’s there, but not really, not for us, at least personally. We can turn away and forget it.

But a triple homicide in our immediate area reminds us of folks who can’t ever turn away, who can’t forget these things. It may be comforting to think, “well, I’m not them.” But we each know that in a blink of an eye, our lives, or those we love, could be changed in the worst way.

The Zinkhan shooting troubles us deeply in many ways. He took three lives but shattered many others. I think of the adults who are now trying to speak with the kids affected by this. What can be said?

But I think, too, of the witnesses. A person shipped off to a foreign land in an armed conflict has some expectation of violence. But someone at a banquet, at a restaurant — at pretty much any public place in America — has opposite expectations.

My wife, daughter and I were sitting at the Taco Stand on Milledge and heard the sirens after that shooting happened. I bit into my burrito hearing the sirens, but I was oblivious to the horror only a few hundred yards away.

We just don’t think such things when we go out. Around here, we expect common courtesies from strangers. It’s not unusual for a stranger to hold the door open, because you’d do the same for them. If you walk past a stranger on the road, it’s not too unusual to exchange a “hello.”

But someone witnessing a violent act in public has been abruptly and randomly pulled out of normal society and placed into a kind of war zone. The next time they enter into a similar setting, the next time a face rings familiar, their heart will pound. They have been robbed and must work to recover what peace they had.

We will never know what was in George Zinkhan’s mind, but we can know what’s in our own. And hopefully we remember that our grievances may at times be very real to us, but violence is the worst of all options.

Zach Mitcham is editor of The Madison County Journal.