LILEKS (James) :: The Bleat.

Absolute evil.

I got a text from sister-in-law: “Mass shooting at Annunciation.” It’s the church and school on 54th, across the creek from our place, a mere block away from her house. I went outside and heard every siren in the world converging on our neighborhood.

Posted that, without saying more, because you never want to repeat bad info - but I got a tweet from a guy I knew who’s at ‘CCO radio, confirming. Hit the newspaper site: nothing. Crime twitter accounts: more. Then turned on the TV, and it’s ongoing situation, active shooter. Helicopter overhead - get out flight tracking app, gov or hospital? State Patrol.

For the next hour it was all Twitter and the TV feed. Horrors: dead children, wounded children rushed to local hospitals. Then the news that the demon had shot himself in the parking lot.

The parking lot. Where the fall festival is held. Where there’s games and rides and food booths and shops and great neighborhood delight, a beloved community event.

It’s one of those places and events that says this is a good place. You’re in a good place.

At 11 I took Birch for a walk. We crossed the creek and headed up to the area. Everyone walking along has headphones on and everyone is looking down. Get to Nicollet; pass the fire station. Doors open, trucks back in. Nod to the fireman. He nods back. Unspoken communal acknowledgement. Turn on 54th, heading towards the church, run into a neighbor on this bike. Nothing to say but we say it all anyway. I turn to head back, and meet another neighbor, and we go through the same ritual. How’d you hear? He’d heard the shots, then went to Nextdoor, where there was a report on the gunshots a literal minute after he’d heard it. We nod and go our different ways. I turn south to see if I can get to sister-in-law’s house, but halfway up the block, half a block from the scene, Birch stops. Digs in. Tenses. Won’t advance. Will not go another inch.

Agreed, Birch. Back we go.

——

So. When this happens you wonder who. The why may or may not matter. I immediately thought it was one of three types of males. These were my priors:

Disaffected young man steeped in floridly antisocial internet culture, on prescription mood-altering drugs for years

Trans copycat

ISIS or ISIS-adjacent

Not unreasonable assumptions. Number two is a recent addition, but not surprising if you follow the subject.

I got the info on the demon’s identity on Twitter about a half-hour before the TV released it, and that seems fair; you don’t want to get that wrong. But how did some random guy on Twitter get it? How did he scrape the video before YouTube yanked the channel? A logical set of assumptions:

The shooter was ID’d quickly after “containment,” as they said

There is some procedure whereby civil authorities can go directly to YouTube to have a channel pulled (After some searching I learned that the FBI had it yanked, so there’s your high-authority acting along pre-established channels)

Someone saw the video before it happened, and recognized the person, and downloaded it

The downloader would not have encountered it randomly, but got a notification

Right? Or, someone got the identity from someone, and went right to YouTube to see if they could possibly find something the guy had possibly put up? The account name wasn’t hard - Robin W - so it may have been just that easy.

KSTP says "Investigative reporter Ryan Raiche found videos on a YouTube page believed to belong to Westman.” He’s a KSTP reporter. His Twitter feed doesn’t have anything on the subject. I don’t think that’s what I saw. So I still wonder how someone found the manifesto. But more on that tomorrow.

—

I went back after supper. Went through a street that was just an ordinary perfect setting, close houses, nice lawns, proud flowers. Lots of people out on the sidewalk. Kids on swings. Cops.

We get to the yellow tape. Birch does not want to be here. He had been panting all the way to the site, and wanted to leave. As we walked away he kept looking up at me and I kept telling him it was okay and giving him head scratches. He relaxes when we cross the creek.

Neighbor comes over for gin. No tonic. We talk about it. Talk about the number of kids on the street who go to the school. He knows the people who rented an apartment to the shooter. Small town.

Daughter calls and we talk for an hour and a half about the internet cultures in which the demon marinated. She had a hard day at work, because this is her home, in the settled part of the heart.

Neighbor comes back over after dark. Goes through the list of people up and down the block who have kids at that school.

It’s eleven o’clock and I’m numb and that is all for today.

The population was 1996 in 2020. Its accomplishements and status may be great, but the Wikipedia entry's first paragraph says it's "approximately 15 miles closer to Terre Haute than to Bloomington." They had a big fire ion 1914, so most of these structures may date from its reconstruction.

I’ll spoil things right now: this is the antidote to the depressing, empty, demolished little towns we find too often.

Let’s start at the center.

YES.

Our Republic is strong and beautiful and wise and fair.

The courthouse is the centerpiece of a town square.

All the sides are completely filled in.

Okay, that’s not that uncommon. What matters is the condition.

Looks like two buildings, but you’re not fooled for more than a few seconds.

I don’t understand why they do that, but okay. You can walk inside and go up to the second floor!

The tree's doing well.

There’s preserved, and there’s lovingly preserved.

Same period, a bit less exuberant . .

Sometimes improvement is just a matter of a bucket of paint.

Dewey Lodge? I get the IOOF, but what’s with the Dewey? Can’t find anything.

When the majority of the buildings are from the same era, the quality of the architecture matters a little bit less.

Half the block can be ordinary, but if the other half is more energetic, and everything’s open for business, and none of the windows on the second floor are blanked or bricked . . .