But, instead — and I regret not actually saying more about this in detail, but I’m feeling a bit frazzled and out of sorts — I direct you to the passing of a young man who was a victim of a great injustice here in Orange County not long ago, a case which I followed quite closely at the time.
He would have been the first to say he was not a plaster saint, and it does his memory no disfavor to note that. But let this from the end of a blog post elsewhere about this serve as a memory:
His family told reporters that Arthur had turned his life around finally. “When he got out of jail, he went through a lot of ups and downs,” his mother said, but “he had found purpose and he was finally moving on.” His uncle told reporters “He was doing very well. He was a joyful, outgoing kind of guy. He was always happy and had lots of friends.”
Let this serve as a reminder to all of us that despite the national races and international conflicts (and the general trashy news of life) that there are important — and cruel — things that happen in our own backyards. We should not be blind to them.