I saw a murder victim once. Well, I didnt really see him, but I definitely saw the body bag that he was in. At least I think it was a body bag. I mean, it was black and people were hovering around it so I assumed it as such.
Details aside, the fact was that several years ago while in Denver, Colorado, I walked past a park where a murder had been committed the night before. It wasnt hard to tell that something had gone horribly wrong because of the abundance of police cruisers, ambulances, and rubber-gloved detectives.
While I could have easily gone about my business and continued on with my walk, I found myself drawn to the murder scene. I had an innate desire to find out what had happened. I wasnt sure what I hoped to see, I just knew I had to see it.
People were talking to one another and milling about so I didnt feel as though I was intruding. In fact, I learned that there is a whole faction of society who sits by their police scanners waiting for these situations to occur so they can hop in their cars and get a firsthand look. There were no tears or drama, just professionals and onlookers going about their business in a very business-like fashion.
I read the next day that the victim, a young man apparently out for a late night jog, had been bludgeoned to death the ultimate wrong-place-at-the wrong-time scenario. The article spoke about his commitment to family, his hard working nature, and the utter devastation of his new bride (the two had only been married a few months).
I remember feeling sick to my stomach as I contemplated his life and tragic demise. How absolutely unfair is it that someone in the prime of their life, who obviously gave and loved in abundance, would be senselessly slaughtered for a Walkman and a digital watch?