Random

The relief comes from this sentence: "This is not a random act." These are the words that bring comfort to all of us who are reading about the shooting in Indianapolis last Wednesday. It is what the Metropolitan Police spokesman chose to tell us about the incident that occurred there last Wednesday. Three people were shot in a corridor of a mall near the Target store. That is where the victims fled after the shooting. The gunman, apparently, went the other direction and got away. This was not good news.
Not having three new obituaries was also the sunny side of this story. "None of the injuries are believed to be life-threatening," continued the spokescop. Thank you, medical science. I don't think it had much to do with the gun-guy not wanting to threaten a life. Just the opposite. This sounds a little like one of those "reckless disregard" moments. People, or in this case felons, who open fire in a shopping mall don't tend to make the Conscientious Citizen List very often. They do tend to make other lists, however, depending on the level of mayhem they incite.
I live in Oakland, where this kind of thing happens with a regularity that might lead you to believe that this city by the bay gets more than its share of bran. Following this line of reasoning, that would make innocent victims the town expels in its wake. Like a shark, always moving forward, never sleeping, random or otherwise, the killing continues. Some would say this is simply a matter of thinning the herd. Acceptable losses. In cities across the United States, shootings both random and planned make going to the movies, the mall, to school a dangerous endeavor. No one goes to the grocery store with the idea that they might not make it home with their frozen pizza.
Are there people out there who go to the mall with the intent of gunning someone down? It would seem so. What are the chances that someone who ends up being shot may have been somehow involved in activities less than wholesome at some time prior to the not-so-random act. The walking wounded are only part of the casualties, counted along with the families and friends of bystanders who happened to show up at an unmarked OK Corral.
"Gun Control Is Using Both Hands" reads the bumper sticker I ride past twice a day on my way to and from work. At an elementary school. In Oakland. It rings in my head as I consider all the lives lost just this year to gunfire. It makes me sad. It makes me tired. It makes me wish for a random act of kindness. Or two.