There should be a better way to detect bad guys.  

After listening to all I could take about the attempted murder of Rep. Gabrielle Giffords, along with the six others that died and fourteen who were wounded, that was the only conclusion I could draw.  People can point fingers, blame guns, blame the right, the left, the undecided, the mentally ill, the parents and everything in between, but ultimately it all boils down to one thing:  There’s no reliable way to detect a bad guy.

The first question I always ask when I hear about an incomprehensible tragedy like this is, “could it have been prevented?”   In the same way that water always seeks its lowest level, there’s a part of my brain that seeks a comforting explanation for the illogical.  If someone’s died of lung cancer, the first thing I think is did he smoke?  Fatal car crash:  Was alcohol involved?  Husband murders wife:  Did he abuse her?  It doesn’t make the outcome any less awful but it gives shape to desperate, formless thoughts. 

 There has to be something to hang on to; the mind demands it.  Unfortunately, too often there’s nothing.  But if someone invented a scanning wand or maybe a ring similar to a mood ring that would change color in the presence of bad guys – problem solved.

Most of the time, bad guys don’t even look the part, although Jared Loughner, the murderer, had a history of disruptive behavior and was suspended from his community college because of it.  But that’s not grounds for arrest and permanent incarceration.  If only someone in the crowd at that rally had a bad guy detector that could have alerted everyone, then that little girl and all those other people wouldn’t be dead.  Rep. Giffords wouldn’t be fighting for her life.  The whole thing would have been over before it started.

I had a handyman for a few years who did great work and charged reasonable rates.   Rick was talkative and funny and sometimes when he was at my house, after he finished working I’d make coffee and he’d stick around for an hour or more, just to yap.  I’d met his wife a few times and his son too, when he was home from college.  They seemed like a nice family.

One day I needed something done and called him.  I left a message; he didn’t return my call.   I left more messages and finally went to the hardware store where he worked part-time to ask him if he was available.  He was distant and said he’d hurt his back; he wasn’t doing that kind of work anymore.  I was confused and a little hurt but found someone else who wasn’t as nice and charged more.

Some time later a neighbor asked me Rick’s last name.  When I told her, she said, “I knew it was him!  I can tell you why he didn’t call you back.  The guy’s a sexual predator,” she said.  “I saw his picture online.  He’s not allowed near anyone under 16.”

My stomach dropped when I thought of the times I’d left the house to run an errand or two while he was doing something for me.  When I’d tell my young son and daughter to come with me, I can still hear him saying,  “They’ll be fine with me.  Don’t worry about it.  Just go and enjoy yourself.”  At the time, it made me like him even more. 

Then there was the handsome young coach at our junior high school that all the kids adored, hauled out of his office by police one day because he’d been taking pictures of boys in the shower.  They found stashes of child pornography on his computer hard drive.

Two months ago, in a town not far from mine, a mother, her friend and her twelve-year-old son were raped, butchered and stuffed in a hollow tree by a neighbor.  He broke into their house intending to rob them and things got out of hand.  I could go on and on.  Most everyone could. 

If I think about it too hard, I can get myself all lathered up about even leaving the house or letting my children out of my sight.  Most of the time I’m able to put things in perspective, see the bigger picture.  Bad things and the bad people who do them are the exception, not the rule.  Most people know the difference between right and wrong.  Most people are decent and sensible at their cores; they’re able to rise above their opinions and their personal politics, their prejudices and baser impulses.  They know there’s a certain line that’s not to be crossed and they stand well behind it.

I tell myself this and I believe it - I have to believe it - because it’s all I have until someone invents a bad guy detector.  Otherwise, I’d be catatonic,  a twitching, thumb-sucking heap huddled in a corner.

Yet sometimes I can’t help myself.  Sometimes when I’m waiting in a long line at the grocery store, I’ll catch myself studying the person in the next lane and wonder if she’s thinking about how she’s going to cook that roast in her cart or if her mind’s a million miles away, considering something darker.   And if that’s true, what should I be looking for?  

Maybe she’s thinking the same thing about me.