Law School Murders: Throngs

A thousand candles burned around. Heads bent in solemnity and tears flowed. The candlelight vigil provided a time for the students and staff to grieve, to mourn, to reflect.

Each of the students wore white hoodies in honor of the slain fraternity brothers who were notorious for wearing such garb. It gave them a sense of solidarity and camaraderie.

Kim walked to the back of the crowd. She felt the sting that she was somehow a pariah. She was the last person to speak to the murderer. With folded arms, she strode with the grace of a gazelle. A speaker with a wireless mic stood onstage with the pristine signature hoody. She was tallish and blondish. She was a junior at the school and was once gurlfriend to Swank Groves. Her name was Rhea Bicker.

“I don’t know why we have our lost family, friends, and caring and congenial classmates. I know there’s no God above nor a fantasyland called Heaven. But they would’ve deserved the myth. They carrired themselves like pupil yeoman working smart and trading with others sincerely. For my Swanky…” Nervous laughs went up. Then Rhea began to sob. her friend Sarah Gastyre hugged her. The crowd cheered and whooed in support.

“We love you, Rhea!” One woman shouted.

A few more began to chant, “Rhea! Rhea! Rhea!” Sarah broke her embrace.

“I'm so sorry!” She sniffled a bit, coughed, cleared her throat. She chuckled slightly.

“Thank you for that. I’m processing everything. There’s a way to do things. If we are to do things, we must get rid of all guns.”

Applause rose up to the night sky in merely deafening fashion.

“If they think there’s going to be no consequences for the deaths of these great young men, then the gunmakers better abandon their arms.”

More applause and shouts of approval.

“We are going to fight to destroy all guns in this country and branch out to the globe.”

Kim almost stalked the young college kids. She went up to them and listened to their stories. As she went about shaking hands and smiling warmly at the anecdotes, Kim felt something nagging at her soul. It was just a slight tug but it began to throb even more as she passed through the crowd.

“I've known him since kindergarten. It’s crazy that Delaware has it set up like that. We almost took every class together." They sensed they could believe the three well trained women.

“We’re going to have resort to the most profound ways of catching hem,” Kim asserted.

Among the throngs of people, she felt that she could take the entirety into her palm and assuage their pain. The somber evening seemed to be the event of the decade for these students. So deep, the gathering appeared to be a chance not for Kim to shine but to envelope herself in her students’ profound grief.

Once she had taken the evening in, she departed for her car where a few paparazzi trailed her and just waved and started her vehicle.

At her home, she listened to public radio and prepared linguine. She poured some wine and texted him.

“Hey.”

“I saw you on TV. It was a brief clip but it was definitely you.”

“How comforting.”

“I didn’t mean—I just….”

“No, it’s okay. It’s like a virus. It’ll always be a part of my life no matter how many prescribed drugs I take.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

There was a moment when the typing symbol started again.

“Anyway, I’m sorry that you had to experience it and that you have to continue it.”

“Yes. Thanks.”