In the Monster's Crosshairs

Disclaimer: I can already hear people attacking this piece letter by letter saying I should not write things that frighten people. If you are not interested in reading something that could be described as scary, read no further. If you do continue reading, you forfeit your right to attack me or this piece.

It took no time on a “Small Town Saturday Night” to go from warm and fuzzy about life in Scottsville to terrified and paranoid. From trustful with our children and lenient about who has access to them to locked down and afraid to trust anyone, mothers and fathers in this town went 0-100 in .5 seconds.

And that was just for the sake of the children. All felt that this would be wrapped up, an arrest would be forthcoming in hours not days, and we could begin to trust one another again. Instead, every adventure beyond our back step seems to place our wives, sisters, mothers and children in the MONSTER's crosshairs.

You feel it driving down the road as you meet people you have known your entire lives. There goes —, wait. Would he have been at the little league game? Or your old pal from high school that just moved back here after some time incarcerated. What did he go up for again? And even as you sit in your pew listening to the choir, the thought barges in unwelcome, “Old brother so and so is a strange man. Hmmm.” You have no right or reason to think those thoughts but they come unbidden and you host them for just a second before shaking them out of your mind.

One in turn, you look at the people you have trusted your entire lives. Thank goodness for the older men! You see the older fellows and they’re really the only ones you feel like talking to. Yet even they tell you stories that remind you of the scary times they’ve lived through and you cut it short and hurry home.

Home where you have the rifle your daddy bought you the last Christmas he shopped for Christmas gifts. Home where you wrestle with your nephews and keep heirlooms that may or may not be valuable to someone besides you. It’s where you pull the covers up close and you close your eyes and you trust that another night will pass like it has a thousand times for you already. There will be no scratching at the door posts or tapping on the windows tonight! All is well! So you hope.

The pet has to go potty or the trashcans must go around. Is the wind getting up? Is the garden gate banging against the post? That’s the possum under the porch growling or maybe a coyote howled. The nights this week have been passed listening to every lonesome sound of the wind, the rain, the whispers of doom and the rumors of doubt are on ever ear.

And the sun rises and you set off to work or school your mind in overtime starts picking at each face you meet with that uneasy question. You feel guilty. You know better. Then while walking from your car into work, you just stop suddenly and ask yourself, “how do you KNOW better?” and you don’t have an answer and just like that you’ve scared the hell out of yourself AGAIN.

On Monday, there were the whispers of a name. We found him on Facebook and talked to people that knew him. In the absence of real information, over time we developed our own narratives and explanations. I don’t think that’s deliberate or that it’s specifically criminal but it doesn’t put humanity’s best foot forward. We have people trained to do that kind of work for us, why not trust them? Well, there are a thousand answers for that but mostly it’s just fear. We want to go back to not being in the MONSTER's crosshairs. We want to have the town we loved back. Heck, we didn’t even know how much we did love that way Scottsville was last week and last month and for all our lives. We only miss it and long for it now that it is gone and perhaps forever.

With little hands firmly grasped, we huddled on the square Monday night, twenty deep around whispering prayers and singing hymns, weeping with the mourning family and standing shoulder to shoulder as our greatest men of God brought us again the words of a Just God. Yes, justice would prevail. Lord, let it flow down. No, Lord, we won’t be satisfied until justice rolls down like water and righteousness like a mighty stream. (Thanks, Amos!) Candle illuminated faces shone on teared faces and broken hearts and for just a few moments of time, it did not seem like we—one of us at a time—was in a MONSTER's crosshairs.

On Tuesday, a few other names and we start to see Scottsville on the big screen with pictures of our town synced with the rabid sounding voice of Nancy Grace. Calming and inspiring, she ain’t! If we hadn’t been scared enough those of us that watched her literally got up, pushed a chair under the doorknob of our front door and walked to the kitchen to select a butcher knife to put under our pillows. Terrifying! Not nice, Nancy, but I know you are trying to help catch MONSTER. You just have unorthodox manners.

The bird on the air carrying the noise of one development or another fluttering in the ear of everyone paying attention. It’s distracting, depressing and altogether ridiculous the things that our small town minds—mine as well as yours—revises the tiny pieces of fact into something so juicy and sweet to chew on that only a few among us can resist.

So we spend our days ‘up at ’em’ and pull our children close and we do our jobs and make our livings but at night we draw our curtains and glance too often at the shotgun in the corner while on nerve wracked trips from bed to potty throughout the night. And it’s likely nowadays that the beds of mothers and fathers are crowded with little ones while older children make forts of their own in closets and in bed with siblings.

No, this isn’t the Scottsville we used to know. I’m afraid to inquire into what brisk business Red Hill Trading Post or Cheeks Trading Post has done since Saturday night. Many among us will receive firearms for Christmas and be trained to be deadly with them by Easter. A few say Scottsville is ‘growing up’ and in time will face all the evils of most larger areas but we are miles from that. It is enough that for the forseeable future that everyone from little blue haired ladies on their weekly trek to the beauty parlor to preschoolers gripped tight in a parent’s arms handed over into safe arms at preschool will have a feeling of dread when they leave the comfort of their homes.

Temporary? Long term? Forever? We don’t yet know. What we do know is that our investigators need us to be patient and we need our law enforcement people to assure us we are as safe as they can make us with MONSTER still out there.

There are things that peer out at us from the darkness. It has always been so. Evil motives in the hearts of men have been consistent since the beginning of time. The darkness we feel gripping at us, snatching at our clothes and snapping at our hair as we pass through the night is not capable of hurting us. It is only capable of causing us to hurt ourselves. Or hurting others, especially those we love most.

An independent, self reliant female is the most beautiful creature alive. She can exist on her own, on her own mental and physical abilities yet many choose to tolerate and some even love the men in their lives. Some of you carrying in your arms the little heartbeat of child as you unload groceries or hurry from your car to your house. You know of what I speak. Those little hairs on your neck bristle, your heart beat quickens and your feet click clack fast as you can to the safety of your stoop as you fumble for keys, enter and slam the door on the darkness. You’re in Scottsville. Living in Scottsville feels like—it is NOT reality in any way—feels like you and your beloved bright eyed children live in the crosshairs of a MONSTER.

In time, with an arrest and a conviction the MONSTER will go away. We can all pray and hope toward that end. We can watch out for one another. We can deny the terror of the night to seep into the blessings of our days. It is true that our confidence in one another is shattered to some degree but you know that if no one else meets the new threshold, there’s always someone to turn to.

As much as you can deny those urges to shift around and live in fear. Perfect love banishes fear! If you fear you can’t function! You have it in your ability to protect your children, anyone’s children that crosses your path. Have confidence in that. There are many things you can and should do to increase those safety standards. Make sure every kid is loved. Let’s call that keeping a little Gabbi in our lives. If we love our kids—yours, mine (joking again!), or anyone’s that takes priority in this community.

And although it feels like we walk the edge of a knife teetering on the brink waiting, watching, and listening for something none of us know will ever come, we cannot descend into conflicts with one another. Social media is a trap! If you cannot overcome the temptation to fact check every other person’s status update to what you think is true, maybe you should eat a Snickers and become the wonderful person you are again. You don’t have to agree but in this climate, you should not be deliberately disagreeable because your emotions and tensions need a release and a temper fit online makes you feel better.

We are scared. We are uneasy. We are on an edge. As the earth spins beyond the light of the sun each night, it feels a little like our safety travels with it. We will overcome this. We have a big Faith for such a little population of people. Some have pointed out that our cries changed the color of the sunset this week! If we pray for justice as we have mourned and prayed for comfort and for healing, we just don’t know what heaven will pour out upon us.

I haven’t intended to scare you and apologize if I did. I am trying to document some of what I’m seeing, feeling and observing during the difficult time and if you don’t share those feelings, please just move along.

It is in no way a reality that we—all of us, perhaps any of us—are in a MONSTER’s crosshairs. Too little is still unknown and it could be that he is under suspicion and is neutralized and we are absolutely safe from him already. Everyone be thoughtful toward others as we navigate through the rest of this part of our journey.