A brief history with civilian-level PTSD

I remember the day everything changed for me.

It was a July – and she seemed like any other customer that day in the firing range where I worked my scheduled last day.

It wasn’t ordinary. She wasn’t ordinary.

She used the rented firearm one last time, and that was to take her own life.

Seconds waiting for the police and paramedics felt like hours. I don’t even really remember calling Emergency Response. I know I did.

But I realized how different reality is from TV. We all know this. It’s nothing new. But the “crime scene” was very different than on TV. And those who responded to my call are all normal, real people. Not actors. The director doesn’t say “cut” and everyone resumes normal activity.

That day, a human being ceased to exist. Their family received agonizing news from complete strangers. But the story started there.

I watched the investigation and how this woman’s story unfolded in front of me. Her actions were open to interpretation, the opinions of complete strangers.

And I stayed away from True Crime for a long time… try 8 years

But what sticks to me is the complexity of humanity. Yet, we want things simple. We want to understand crime as human/monster.

But what does that mean? What makes a person a monster? Are they born or made? I think the answer is fluid. Just like no two people are the same, no two monsters have the exact same origin.