Dawn

I am most of the way through Pickett's book now. When I had insomnia at 3 a.m. I read a few chapters. It is dawn and I am reading it still. How have I come to read so much about death the past few weeks?

I only just began reading the details and past news accounts of Christopher Scott Emmett's crime. Last night I reviewed the archives, the coverage we gave this crime almost six years ago. I suppose the natural response would be to feel a desire for revenge. I have not seen the photos of the crime scene. I have not spoken with the victim's family. I have had only brief conversations with attorneys and officials.

It's not how I would have wanted to do this story. As much as I wish I did, I don't have the luxury of a week devoted to only this execution. That bothers me. I must sandwich in the death of a human being with the graduation of high school students, with the concerns of preservationists over the destruction of historic buildings, with various awards various groups are giving various people. Life goes on even as death looms.