There’s no worse sound than the sound of crime.
The scream of a woman being attacked. The cry of a child in the house across the street being beaten by a parent. The sound of gunfire that breaks the otherwise quiet reverie of a Saturday morning.
In rapid succession, six shots go off somewhere in the neighborhood today. Given the density of fog and humidity this morning, the gun could have been fired on the other side of the block or down by the school more than a mile from here.
Within minutes of these gunshots, the all-too-familiar scream of sirens: police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks converging on a scene somewhere where life will never be the same for those who have been caught in today’s melee.
Imagination runs wild.
Was it a robbery gone awry? The desperate and selfish taking from the hardworking and law-abiding, being thwarted in their attempt and lashing out with that most readily available of weapons—a(n illegal) firearm?
Was it a domestic dispute? The anger of a husband or boyfriend boiling over to the point of violence or the defensiveness of a wife or girlfriend tired of being a victim of violence?
Silence has fallen on the neighborhood once again, but somewhere out there is a street marked off with tell-tale yellow tape and lives shattered by six volleys of gunfire.
Photo copyright: 36 Frames