A sign of hope amid true darkness

It’s been eight days since the mass shooting in Tumbler Ridge, B.C.

Eight people were killed — five children between the ages of 11 and 13, an educational assistant, and two relatives of the shooter. Two other children were seriously wounded, among 27 injured. The shooter then killed themself with one of their own weapons.

The students: Abel Mwansa Jr., 12; Zoey Benoit, 12; Ezekiel Schofield, 13; Ticaria Lampert, 12; Kylie Smith, 12. Educational assistant Shannda Aviugana-Durand, 39. Family members Emmett Jacobs, 11, and Jennifer Jacobs, 39.

There’s been time to watch, to listen, to read and to think. To get more clarity about the horrible crime than the sheer shock which was the first reaction as details of the crime unfolded.

What we know now: that the RCMP and other first responders moved quickly and decisively when they received word of a school shooter in the town.

That police had removed weapons from the killer’s residence in the past, but those weapons were returned. Police say the returned weapons were not used in the attack.

That the killer had a lengthy history of mental illness, including periods of involuntary treatment.

That the killer had an increasingly violent online presence.

That there is now a virtual licence to spread online hate, vitriol and violence — a licence that doesn’t respect borders or facts. That online “influencers” tripped over themselves in their rush to release information to garner the most possible clicks — including releasing information that was inaccurate and included posting a photograph identifying a completely innocent Ontario resident as the killer.

That, unfortunately, that same online licence extends to attacking entire groups of people — the transgender community — once again in the quest to gain likes and clicks, in the process exposing other members of that community to even-larger fears of violence than they already face.

And it seems that there is nothing that individual Canadians can do to stop any of that — that we are powerless.

What we also learned is that our federal political leaders, who so often play the role of bitter enemies in the House of Commons, can find the will to work together to express how strongly we, as a nation, feel about Tumbler Ridge’s loss.

That together, they can put aside the regular petty and puerile attacks to give us an example of how to do more, to be better, to be united in expressing our sadness at the grief and loss that the actions of one person chose to visit on Tumbler Ridge.

One person. Not an identifiable group of people.

Tumbler Ridge didn’t happen because the attacker was trans, nor because they had mental health problems.

It happened because they made the individual choice to kill others, and because they had, at hand, the ways, means and weapons to do just that.

We have chosen not to name the killer, if only to strip away some of the notoriety violent offenders seem to seek: they may want us to remember their names for the violence and hate they delivered on innocents, but perhaps the best thing we can do is not satisfy that desire.

So where are we now?

Striving amid the horror to find, if not hope, then at least the belief that we can be better.

We can choose to work together, to aspire, to hope — or we can choose to put up more walls of hate and fear, and move ever further apart.

For a small part of one day, our political leaders showed what it means to be better.

Perhaps that can be a new direction for them from now on.