There's more than enough tragedy to go around in the fatal shooting of 17-year-old Christian Rook by a sheriff's deputy.
A young man's life snuffed short before he was old enough to vote or legally drink a beer.
A grieving family.
An officer who must live with the outcome of one split-second decision for the rest of his life.
The deputy in this case, Barry Glosson, a nine-year veteran of the Guilford County Sheriff's Office, was himself treated for what were described as "stress-related" chest pains following the Feb. 2 incident.
Officers will tell you that domestic calls, as this one was, are among the most unpredictable and most dangerous. In 2001, a man slashed a Guilford deputy's face with a box cutter during such a call in Greensboro.
Given the luxury of time and hindsight, from the safety of our homes and offices, it's easy to second-guess the deputy's actions. In our minds, as in the movies, everything happens in slow motion, giving the hero plenty of time to analyze the situation and to aim squarely for the leg or shoulder -- unless you're Neo in "The Matrix," who can stop bullets in midair with a wave of the hand, and thus has little to fear from the threat of a mere knife.
In real life, it all happens in a heartbeat.
Meanwhile, those not faulting the deputy just as readily blame the young man. They point out that his grandmother had said in a 911 call that Rook was threatening to attack her, as well as his mother and brother, with the knife.
They note Sheriff's Office accounts that Glosson arrived to find Rook in front of the home and repeatedly told him to drop the knife.
They remind us that Rook had had trouble with the law before, having served 12 days in the High Point jail for assault and battery after previously attacking family members.
But the young man also reportedly was suffering from bipolar disorder, a behavioral condition that involves dramatic mood swings.
And Guilford County has had a sad history of fatal shootings by law officers of people with mental or behavioral disorders: Daryl Howerton (1994), Gilbert Barber (2001), William Roy Lewis (2001), Ratmir Gasanov (2003), Dylan Hartsfeld (2008).
Howerton was shot as he waved a knife while naked. Gasanov spoke little English and had threatened to commit suicide, as did Lewis. Hartsfeld was a veteran of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan whose family said he was suffering from post-traumatic-stress disorder.
Mental health advocates, while not outright questioning Glosson's action, have gently fretted that the Sheriff's Office continues to balk at providing Crisis Intervention Training, or CIT, for its officers.
"Our concern mounts as we note that the lack of understanding regarding Chris' alleged bipolar condition may have contributed to his sad shooting by law enforcement," Jack Glenn of NAMI Guilford, a local affiliate of the National Alliance on Mental Illness, wrote in a Feb. 12 News & Record column.
"It intensifies when we contemplate the plausibility that a Crisis Intervention Team-trained officer might have recognized the situation and might have reacted differently with a more positive outcome."
Glenn asks a fair question.
The High Point, Greensboro and Winston-Salem police departments all offer CIT training. Why not the Sheriff's Office?
Among other hard questions:
Could preventive treatment have headed off the violent confrontations?
Will the state's failed mental health reforms mean even more such incidents?
When is a Taser a more appropriate option?
But some of us aren't waiting to hear the answers even as a months-long SBI investigation only begins.
One letter to the newspaper called Rook "a punk." Another flatly said he "got what he deserved."
From the other side, "I was shocked to hear of the 17-year-old kid who was gunned down in his own yard by the people paid to protect us," wrote yet another. "I cannot believe the officer had no way to stop a kid other than to shoot him in the chest."
The fact is, there is much we still don't know about this case.
The SBI will take several months to investigate the shooting. It took many of us only several minutes to pronounce guilt.
In our rush to judge both the officer and the victim, the itchiest trigger fingers of all in this case may belong to the public.
Clarification: St. James Homes II, once managed by County Commissioner Melvin "Skip" Alston, was demolished by the city three years after Alston's company had relinquished the management contract.
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