I could have titled this post, Gun Violence, 4th of July Mass Shooting, or Violence in America, but there is no need for descriptive phrases. “Highland Park” suffices.

The Context. Highland Park (a parade) is Uvalde (an elementary school); Uvalde is Buffalo (a grocery store); Buffalo is Las Vegas (a music festival); Las Vegas is El Paso (a Walmart); El Paso is Orlando (a nightclub); Orlando is Aurora (a movie theatre); Aurora is Pittsburgh (a house of worship); Pittsburgh is Thousand Oaks (a bar and grill); Thousand Oaks is Edmund (a post office); Edmund is San Ysidro (a McDonald’s); San Ysidro is Fort Hood (a military base); and Fort Hood is Austin (the granddaddy of them all—the place where Charles Whitman shot and killed 14 people over a 96-minute period in 1966). All these otherwise nondescript locations are now synonymous with gun violence.

Twenty-four hours after yesterday’s shooting, I traveled along tree-lined Sheridan Road, passing oversized homes lining the bluffs overlooking Lake Michigan. During the July 4th weekend, 12 people were killed and another 68 were wounded in Chicago; down from the 23 who were killed and the 90 who were wounded over the same weekend in 2021. But NBC doesn’t drop three national anchors into Chicago to cover the weekend shootings. Lester Holt, Chris Jansing, and Ali Velshi only show up for the unexpected expected; in this case, in a largely affluent, white, and heavily Jewish bedroom community 25 miles north of Chicago.

When I first heard the news, I wondered whether a neo-Nazi might be behind the yet another mass shooting, but alleged shooter 21-year old Robert “Bobby” Crimo III reportedly was not motivated by anti-Semitism. Based on early reports. Crimo most likely was depressed, alienated, and lonely. When have we heard that description before?

Crimo was an “aspiring” rapper, but notably, his music videos only featured him—no friends, family, or co-workers. He is seen performing in doll-house like structures. In one, a miniature school room. In another, a teenager’s cramped bedroom.

In retrospect, Crimo’s violence is anything but surprising. At a 3:30 PM press conference outside the Highland Park Police Station, Lake County Police Spokesperson Christopher Covelli told the media that Crimo attempted suicide in April 2019. Covelli then revealed that four months later, police removed 16 knives, a dagger, and a sword from Crimo’s residence, returning them the same day to Crimo’s father. Lacking probable cause, Covelli indicated there was no basis for an arrest. Despite having made threats against his family, no family members chose to file a complaint against young Crimo.

Yet, in December 2019, Crimo’s father “sponsored” Crimo’s application for an Illinois Firearm Owners Identification card (“FOID”), which permitted the otherwise underage Crimo to purchase two high-powered rifles and three other firearms; Covelli, when asked, refused to characterize the other three as pistols. He did indicate that Crimo used a rifle similar to an AR-15, killing seven people and injuring 38 more. In total Crimo fired off 84 rounds, which explains why so many people were wounded.

To our “friends” in the NRA, there were plenty of armed good guys at the parade, but can even one ‘good ‘ of many good guys stop a roof-top shooter armed with a high-powered weapon of war and the advantage that comes with surprise? If the fallacy undercutting the NRA’s catchy slogan was not clear before Monday, it is clear today.

At the 3:30 PM press conference and again at the 5:30 PM one, reporters asked about the effectiveness of Illinois’ red flag law, characterized as one of the toughest in the nation. Why hadn’t Illinois’ law stopped Crimo from acquiring five guns? What sort of behavior is necessary to trigger those laws? Why are Crimo’s parents “as stunned and shocked as anyone” about their son’s actions? I suspect a wrongful death lawsuit will be filed against the parents within weeks, if not days.

At this point, does it matter? Katherine Goldstein (64), Irina McCarthy (35), Kevin McCarthy (37), Jacquelyn Sundheim (63), Stephen Straus (88), and Nicolas Toledo-Zaragoza (78) are dead. One other yet-to-be identified person also died as a consequence of the ambush. The good news: The McCarthys’ now orphaned two-year old son survived. To date, $150,000 has been raised for him.

Those are the facts. My time today in Highland Park divides itself into two distinct periods.

Part I—Daylight. Until the 5:30 PM press conference, I saw very few people on the streets. Many of the retail establishments were closed. There were no gawkers. Occasionally I would pass two people walking together on the sidewalk. Outwardly, most were not in a state of shock, but many did stare blankly ahead. Needless to say, the thick, hazy air was cut by the sounds of silence.

While the locals may have been safely ensconced in their homes or they may have sought refuge in their Loop offices, the main streets were crawling with media. The preferred vehicles are either small panel trucks, or large black Chevy Suburbans. Many of the parked SUVs had their front hoods open, with jumper cables connected to portable batteries, powering the television lights and television transmission devices. It was virtually impossible to walk on the sidewalk lining the west side of Green Bay Road. Light stands, shims, teleprompters, portable podiums, tripods, and Pelican cases. were scattered everywhere. Producers and technicians stood around talking and eating from styrofoam cartoons containing food purchased at the nearby Sunset Foods grocery store, which has a clean bathroom. Photographer’s Credo Number 1: Immediately upon arriving, find a readily-accessible bathroom.

Part II—Early Evening. I waited until about 6:30 PM for Vice-President Kamala Harris to arrive. As the camera crews took down the mics from the 5:30 PM press conference, I decided to shift locations. I had heard the rumors that she would make an appearance, but decided I could not waste anymore time waiting for that one image, so I headed north and then south along 1st Street. She eventually showed up for what was a cameo appearance.

I encountered a small group of people milling about when I arrived at the intersection of 1st and Central Avenue, located immediately east of the Metra rail tracks. The police tape prevented people from getting any closer to the crime scene. I kept walking south, only to discover people headed east, so I followed the locals.

Ten minutes later, I was outside a packed church, in the presence of somewhere between 15 and 20 golden retrievers lazily sprawled on the grass. People were stroking them, presumably comforted by their sweat dispositions and soft fur.

Seven hearts mounted to nearby stands were arranged in a semi-circle. People were inscribing messages on the hearts using the provided Sharpies. A community was coming together, seeking solace in each other’s company, hoping to overcome their shared horror.

After 30 minutes, I headed back toward the downtown area, where I saw people walking north. Within minutes I was back at 1st and Central, where the crowd had swelled to somewhere between 500 and 1,000 people. Some were in tears; others wore anguish on their faces; and some were laughing, likely suppressing feelings that they were not yet ready to process.

In front of the city’s Vietnam Memorial, two women stood on a bench, holding a black bullhorn inscribed in white script with the word “Jesus.” Apparently, they had borrowed it from a religious group that was carrying banners bearing Jesus’ name. One of the women announced that the two were the reason why so many people showed up tonight. As two young mothers, both felt something needed to be done, so they organized the event. After a few speeches, they melted back into the crowd, which was figuratively embracing itself—a group hug.

During the speeches, we were treated to one truly funny quip during an otherwise solemn evening. A man wearing a yarmulke—based on his remarks, presumably a local rabbi—began by jokingly requesting that no one photograph him holding a bullhorn with “Jesus” inscribed on it. Apparently he did not want any trouble from the union.

There will more gatherings like this one in the days to come. The rather meager floral memorial will expand exponentially—they always do.

At 8:30 PM, I headed back to Chicago, but I will be return to Highland Park in the coming days.

An Additional Thought. As an aside, I am fascinated by how the networks choreograph the remote broadcasts that we routinely see on the national, local and cable news. At home, the action flows seamlessly. When seen up close, however, the on-air talent is clearly walking atop a high wire in a windstorm.

Lester Holt was standing under a flimsy tent held up by four poles. A producer stood off to one side, diplomatically asking people who were walking behind Holt to avoid lingering; just keep moving. This was not the producer’s first rodeo: she knew how to politely cajole without inciting. Holt, or whoever was standing there at various times during the day, was surrounded by lights on tripods, a small table in front of him that would barely hold a laptop, and scrims almost touching his face. Several technicians hovered about. On television screens across the country, Holt appeared as if he were standing on a largely empty street, with crime scene tape and police standing in the background.

On television, Chris Jansing and the person back in the studio were engaged in a conversation, as the image on the screen jumped back and forth between Highland Park and the New York studio; but no one stood in front of Jansing interacting with her—she was conversing with air. Yet, the exchange is so natural when viewed at home.

The on-air talent in Highland Park was often fed the questions in advance, as became clear as the reporter practiced his or her response, even working out the hand gestures before going live. NBC 5’s Phil Rodgers kept asking the producer whether the newscast was still in “the weather” segment.

A Second Additional Thought. I felt bad for Mayor Nancy Rotering. She was cool and decisive on Monday during the televised press conferences. Today, she exhibited similar strengths, but she was visibly spent. I doubt whether she slept Monday night, which should be taken as an observation, not a criticism. The circumstances would weigh heavily on any human. Hopefully with Crimo now charged and confined to jail, and the forensic investigation winding down, Mayor Rotering can get a good night’s sleep.

UPDATE. More than $2 million has been raised for two-year old Aiden McCarthy, whose parents were among the dead—his father died while shielding Aiden from Crimo’s terror. The seventh victim was identified on Wednesday as Eduardo Uvaldo.

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