(no subject)
Unpublished.
Our Baby is Gone
Contemplating the possibility of murder and kidnapping on Kendall Green
Earl Mikell
Ben Affleck’s Gone Baby Gone centers on a kidnapping mystery in a suburb of Boston, a little girl-lost mystery that two young private detectives must risk their sanity, relationship, and, ultimately, their lives to unravel. A little girl has been taken, and with the police struggling to find her, her parents summon the detectives for a far-ranging investigation. What the detectives find in the course of the investigation is a truth that nobody wanted. The film concludes on a murky moral conundrum, which the lead private detective must answer in order to solve the mystery. Gone Baby Gone, a very dark and searing film, is simply a microcosm writ large of a tragedy in a small community, much like how the 2001 murders at Gallaudet University were.
Just how searing were the murders? It is still brought up in conversations today, and used to point out the incompetent and CYA (Cover Your Ass) mentality of the previous administration. Even the names of the dorms, where the murders took place, stick out like a sore thumb, reminding us of a relatively recent, and once innocent, past in which these dorms weren’t named Ballard. We still remember the names and persons involved. Even whenever the university made the news in the last few years, relating to the protest and the accreditation issue, the media almost always included brief paragraphs about the traumatic events of Winter 2000 - 2001 in their coverage.
Why is this so? Why can’t we seem to leave the Plunkett/Varner murders behind in the past? The Gallaudet community, separate from the deaf community at large, is a small and unique community. It has its own language, idioms, commerce, sports, and so on. It is a proud and fierce historical community, with much achievement to show for in its’ 150 year life. It is pretty much the same as any other small historical community in the United States, with similar communal experiences, in every realm of life. One key difference, however, is, or was, the lack of a major tragedy or crime within the community, essentially the lack of a shameful or tragic period of time that tears through a close-knit community and put it through much turmoil; a great big test, if you will.
Deaf President Now isn’t, and has never been considered to be, a tragedy. It was an unmitigated triumph for all of us, and so should not be considered, confused with even, as a dramatic or tragic period for us. With that said, it is rather remarkable that one finds it difficult to recall any such time as having occurred for the university, before the murders. So it is fair to say that we, our little Gallaudet community, were truly fortunate to have lived a century and half’s worth of innocent and unaltered way of life, before the murders happened. Nothing prepared us for what would happen that winter. However, despite having had such a positive past, tragedy eventually had to fall upon our little clustered community, in the form of murder. And we had to go through a crucible of pain and tears, while the whole world looked on.
Our whole worldview was shattered that winter. That hallowed, dreamy idea of a campus, sequestered away from the world, and yet being a unique world upon itself, was immediately altered and left us wondering about the future. We can’t leave the murders in the past, because without that view that we previously had of our community, we are left to realize everything is different now. Fears are more apparent. Concerns are more amplified now regarding our safety on Kendall Green. We contemplate the kinds of people that are being let in without our knowledge. With every Amber alert we wonder about a kidnapping on campus.
Our community didn’t have to think such grisly thoughts, before the murders. With every community, there are two, or rather, three kinds of traumas that can render the very soul of a community naked and vulnerable to pain and doubt and anger. There is murder, kidnapping, and lastly, suicide. Because our innocent and comfortable worldview was shattered, we are now open to great worry about such drama occurring on a more frequent basis. Communities are forced to face their own version of truth, a truth nobody wants, as Gone Baby Gone visually shows. That line of thinking is perhaps the reason why we are unable to leave it in the past.
However, there may be a hidden reason behind our contemplation, worries, and memories. Are we capable of surviving another great trauma? The last seven years of life at Gallaudet has been quite rocky, to say the least. We’ve already experienced the murders. And given the rendering and strife of communities that have experienced kidnappings, what happens if we experience a kidnapping? The real reason we haven’t left the murders behind is because we just really don’t know what will happen if such a trauma happens again, and that’s why our fears and concerns are still present even now. And so, today, nearly eight years after the deaths of Benjamin Varner and Eric Plunkett, we are still left praying that the next day won’t find a dead body in a dorm room, or a little girl-lost.
Our Baby is Gone
Contemplating the possibility of murder and kidnapping on Kendall Green
Earl Mikell
Ben Affleck’s Gone Baby Gone centers on a kidnapping mystery in a suburb of Boston, a little girl-lost mystery that two young private detectives must risk their sanity, relationship, and, ultimately, their lives to unravel. A little girl has been taken, and with the police struggling to find her, her parents summon the detectives for a far-ranging investigation. What the detectives find in the course of the investigation is a truth that nobody wanted. The film concludes on a murky moral conundrum, which the lead private detective must answer in order to solve the mystery. Gone Baby Gone, a very dark and searing film, is simply a microcosm writ large of a tragedy in a small community, much like how the 2001 murders at Gallaudet University were.
Just how searing were the murders? It is still brought up in conversations today, and used to point out the incompetent and CYA (Cover Your Ass) mentality of the previous administration. Even the names of the dorms, where the murders took place, stick out like a sore thumb, reminding us of a relatively recent, and once innocent, past in which these dorms weren’t named Ballard. We still remember the names and persons involved. Even whenever the university made the news in the last few years, relating to the protest and the accreditation issue, the media almost always included brief paragraphs about the traumatic events of Winter 2000 - 2001 in their coverage.
Why is this so? Why can’t we seem to leave the Plunkett/Varner murders behind in the past? The Gallaudet community, separate from the deaf community at large, is a small and unique community. It has its own language, idioms, commerce, sports, and so on. It is a proud and fierce historical community, with much achievement to show for in its’ 150 year life. It is pretty much the same as any other small historical community in the United States, with similar communal experiences, in every realm of life. One key difference, however, is, or was, the lack of a major tragedy or crime within the community, essentially the lack of a shameful or tragic period of time that tears through a close-knit community and put it through much turmoil; a great big test, if you will.
Deaf President Now isn’t, and has never been considered to be, a tragedy. It was an unmitigated triumph for all of us, and so should not be considered, confused with even, as a dramatic or tragic period for us. With that said, it is rather remarkable that one finds it difficult to recall any such time as having occurred for the university, before the murders. So it is fair to say that we, our little Gallaudet community, were truly fortunate to have lived a century and half’s worth of innocent and unaltered way of life, before the murders happened. Nothing prepared us for what would happen that winter. However, despite having had such a positive past, tragedy eventually had to fall upon our little clustered community, in the form of murder. And we had to go through a crucible of pain and tears, while the whole world looked on.
Our whole worldview was shattered that winter. That hallowed, dreamy idea of a campus, sequestered away from the world, and yet being a unique world upon itself, was immediately altered and left us wondering about the future. We can’t leave the murders in the past, because without that view that we previously had of our community, we are left to realize everything is different now. Fears are more apparent. Concerns are more amplified now regarding our safety on Kendall Green. We contemplate the kinds of people that are being let in without our knowledge. With every Amber alert we wonder about a kidnapping on campus.
Our community didn’t have to think such grisly thoughts, before the murders. With every community, there are two, or rather, three kinds of traumas that can render the very soul of a community naked and vulnerable to pain and doubt and anger. There is murder, kidnapping, and lastly, suicide. Because our innocent and comfortable worldview was shattered, we are now open to great worry about such drama occurring on a more frequent basis. Communities are forced to face their own version of truth, a truth nobody wants, as Gone Baby Gone visually shows. That line of thinking is perhaps the reason why we are unable to leave it in the past.
However, there may be a hidden reason behind our contemplation, worries, and memories. Are we capable of surviving another great trauma? The last seven years of life at Gallaudet has been quite rocky, to say the least. We’ve already experienced the murders. And given the rendering and strife of communities that have experienced kidnappings, what happens if we experience a kidnapping? The real reason we haven’t left the murders behind is because we just really don’t know what will happen if such a trauma happens again, and that’s why our fears and concerns are still present even now. And so, today, nearly eight years after the deaths of Benjamin Varner and Eric Plunkett, we are still left praying that the next day won’t find a dead body in a dorm room, or a little girl-lost.