Wednesday, June 2, 2010.  As the day unfolds the news begins to emerge of a number of acts of violence in Cumbria.  What began as an ordinary day in an area beloved of holiday makers for its tranquility and outstanding natural beauty ends as another Hungerford, Dunblane, Omagh.

Thursday, June 3, 2010.  The news of the day is dominated by reporting of the shootings as each new detail is sought out and shared.  Wondering why we are drawn to report in such detail and why I am drawn to watch it, I recognise the shock we all experience at events which are so far outside our mental maps of the world and our need, somehow, to make sense of the tragic events of the day.  Talk of the fact that the weapons used were lawfully held blends seamlessly into questions about our UK gun laws as if, somehow, there must be a way of preventing every such act of violence.

The reportage is – to my mind at least – sensitive and respectful, recognising the shock of a whole community and the need to grieve both individually and as a community.  The events of the previous day will need to be processed and the community will need to find some way of coming to terms with the experiences and the heartfelt losses of the day.

Of course, one option is easy to reach for and already reflected in the language used to describe Derrick Bird, the man who killed 12 people and injured a number of others.  On the one hand witnesses describe him in his full ordinariness:  the man who was a regular in his local pub, sometimes quiet and sometimes joshing with his mates;  the man who had dedicated significant time to caring for his mother.  On the other hand, journalists reach for the descriptions which set him apart – the gunsman, killer.  It is not only that he committed acts of violence.  The language suggests that he was the acts he committed.

I am reminded of a story told by Marshall Rosenberg about teaching nonviolent communication in a prison, when a man convicted of murder told him:  “If I’d known about this [nonviolent communication], I would not have needed to murder my best friend”.  Whilst we may never know for sure the motives that drove Derrick Bird to shoot so many people before killing himself, we can be sure that his was the tragic expression of his unmet needs – needs that he lacked the skill to meet.  His tragedy has become the tragedy of his family, the tragedy of a whole community, the tragedy of a nation.

So, as my heart goes out to everyone involved, I choose to believe that Derrick Bird was more – much more – than the acts he committed on Wednesday, 2 June 2010.  I choose to embrace him in my thoughts with as much love and care as I have for his bereaved family, for those he injured and killed, for their loved ones and for those around them affected by the terrible events of the day.

His is not a legacy I would wish for anyone and yet it can be transformed by our ability to love and to heal.