Face-to-face with Madness
I was at work this morning, at my desk, awaiting the 'morning meeting' we have every day to fill in gaps as people get sick, and generally make sure everyione is ready for the day.
Not unsurprisingly, people wanted to talk about VA Tech. People were speculating about why it had happened.
I remained silent, as is usually my nature in these discussions - remain silent if you have nothing to contribute.
But I found myself feeling uncreasingly uneasy, annoyed even. I felt I had somethign to say, but no words formed.
I remained mute, but my mind began to scurry about, seeking an answer to this puzzle - what did I have to contribute?
Then the meeting, and the day began, and the answer remained elusive...
...until things calmed down this afternoon.
That was when I recalled Chris.
Chris had been a High School student who worked weekends at the USS Constitution Museum (USSCM) and whose driving ambition was to get into the Naval Academy in Annapolis, MD. He had started working there shortly afterI joined the staff.
All that fall, winter and spring he worked with Matt, Gary, Steph, and I, under the instruction of the student director (whose name eludes me now). He worked the floor, the archives, and in special programs.
He loved to talk about the Navy. He loved to talk about his ambition to join the Navy. He had drive, discipline, and dedication. Everybody there felt he would 'make it.'
That spring, he was accepted into the Academy. Chris would start in the fall. He briefly kicked up into a near-full-time slot, and we all applauded him and wished him luck.
He went to Annapolis.
He came back for winter break. Saw his family; saw friends. Even visited the USSCM.
Then, a week after he was supposed to be back in the Academy, he popped out of a bush in front of his old High Scholl, and slashed a girl four times with a small knife. Probably would have kept at it, but a pair of local police officers happened to be nearby and, hearing her and others scream, charged over.
Chris turned and fled. The officers pursued; were amazed to see him opening the distance, as both had trained extensively for foot-chases. (Chris had been a track runner.) Both called for him to stop; also, for backup.
A block later, one officer noticed red droplets on the ground. Pointed it out to his partner; perhaps it gave them more speed. They began to gain. But it was far too late.
If memory serves, it was four or five blocks later that Chris collapsed.
He had, I heard, fourty-two self-inflicted stab wounds, mostly to the gut and chest. The two officers were unable to save him.
The girl was rushed to a hospital. Spent a day in critical, a few more in recovery. She came out of it with four nasty scars and (I have no doubt) a nightmare, but she lived. Thanks be to Heaven.
I don't know why he snapped... but I suspect the Academy has something to do with it. I think he was rejected, or shattered under the strain of the place. I don't know.
Everyone then was shocked, too. None of us could believe it. Nobody had met him and wondered if he was utterly nuts. He seemed well within the normal boundries of sanity.
But, in the end, he wasn't.
I'd link to a journal post about it, but that was before I had this LJ.
Not unsurprisingly, people wanted to talk about VA Tech. People were speculating about why it had happened.
I remained silent, as is usually my nature in these discussions - remain silent if you have nothing to contribute.
But I found myself feeling uncreasingly uneasy, annoyed even. I felt I had somethign to say, but no words formed.
I remained mute, but my mind began to scurry about, seeking an answer to this puzzle - what did I have to contribute?
Then the meeting, and the day began, and the answer remained elusive...
...until things calmed down this afternoon.
That was when I recalled Chris.
Chris had been a High School student who worked weekends at the USS Constitution Museum (USSCM) and whose driving ambition was to get into the Naval Academy in Annapolis, MD. He had started working there shortly afterI joined the staff.
All that fall, winter and spring he worked with Matt, Gary, Steph, and I, under the instruction of the student director (whose name eludes me now). He worked the floor, the archives, and in special programs.
He loved to talk about the Navy. He loved to talk about his ambition to join the Navy. He had drive, discipline, and dedication. Everybody there felt he would 'make it.'
That spring, he was accepted into the Academy. Chris would start in the fall. He briefly kicked up into a near-full-time slot, and we all applauded him and wished him luck.
He went to Annapolis.
He came back for winter break. Saw his family; saw friends. Even visited the USSCM.
Then, a week after he was supposed to be back in the Academy, he popped out of a bush in front of his old High Scholl, and slashed a girl four times with a small knife. Probably would have kept at it, but a pair of local police officers happened to be nearby and, hearing her and others scream, charged over.
Chris turned and fled. The officers pursued; were amazed to see him opening the distance, as both had trained extensively for foot-chases. (Chris had been a track runner.) Both called for him to stop; also, for backup.
A block later, one officer noticed red droplets on the ground. Pointed it out to his partner; perhaps it gave them more speed. They began to gain. But it was far too late.
If memory serves, it was four or five blocks later that Chris collapsed.
He had, I heard, fourty-two self-inflicted stab wounds, mostly to the gut and chest. The two officers were unable to save him.
The girl was rushed to a hospital. Spent a day in critical, a few more in recovery. She came out of it with four nasty scars and (I have no doubt) a nightmare, but she lived. Thanks be to Heaven.
I don't know why he snapped... but I suspect the Academy has something to do with it. I think he was rejected, or shattered under the strain of the place. I don't know.
Everyone then was shocked, too. None of us could believe it. Nobody had met him and wondered if he was utterly nuts. He seemed well within the normal boundries of sanity.
But, in the end, he wasn't.
I'd link to a journal post about it, but that was before I had this LJ.