On June 30th of this year, yet another tragedy of American gun culture occurred. Allow me to set the stage and relay the story as best I can without turning it into the fisherman’s yarn so many are want to create.
Tomorio Walton, a drug addict from Tennessee, absconded from his parole with just a month left to go. Why he did so, the world will never know. His faulty reasoning, driven by his quest for another ‘fix,’ is much like another great question our time; “How many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop?” The world may never know.
However, we do know this: He ended up in Albuquerque, New Mexico. He also ended up in the company of one Mr. Skyy Barrs. Mr. Barrs understood Mr. Walton’s plight quite well and, as so many with drug connections do, offered Mr. Walton a way out of his predicament. It goes a little something like this:
“Sure, dude, I can get you hooked up. But you’re going to do something for me first. You’re going to rob some mother fuckers for me, and if you get your ass caught, that’s on you. You do the crime and the time. I’m the man with your fix, and you’re nothing but a street slave bitch. Now get your fuckin’ ass out there and earn your keep, bitch!”
Mr. Walton’s drug problem had already given him a long history with law enforcement in Tennessee, and so he understood Mr. Barrs’ offer for help depicted above for what it was; a business arrangement. The actual language annunciated may differ from the ‘suit and tie’ white men of the corporate board rooms of this world, but that’s the only difference. One party is always the ‘man with the fix,’ the other party is the ‘street slave bitch.’
Mr. Barrs drove Mr. Walton to a local Motel 6, gave him a gun, and told him to get out there and earn his keep. Like any dutiful independent contractor, Mr. Walton obeyed. He hung out in the parking lot waiting for a good mark and eventually thought he saw one in Ms. Lynn Russell. He approached her and asked for a cigarette in order to case her out a bit. She said she didn’t have one and returned to her room where her husband, Mr. Chuck De Caro, awaited. Mr. Walton waited some more. He waited and sweat, and then he waited and sweat some more. “God, if I can only get one more bump, I’ll quit the shit. Help me, God. Please, just help me get high one more time.”
Then, as if all of his prayers were answered, Ms. Russell emerged again and Mr. Walton acted. He jumped Ms. Russell. He grabbed her and pushed her back into the room, whereupon he brandished his weapon and demanded their ‘valuables.’
At this point, the only thing I know comes from the fish story apparently told by Mr. De Caro to a friend of his. This friend related the story to me and then, no more than 24 hours later, I heard him relate the story to someone else. Within that span, the fish story had grown some more. This is what I was told:
Mr. Walton forced his way into the room and demanded all of their money and valuables. Ms. Russell…
Wait, I have to go back a bit and give you one critical piece of information. Both Mr. De Caro and Ms. Russell are licensed ‘conceal carry’ gun owners. “Them folks is just waiting’ fer the wild west to come knocking’ at their door.” Well, it did.
So back to the story. In a feigned effort to exhibit compliance with Mr. Walton’s demand, Ms. Russell retrieved her purse, opened it to make certain her gun was in it, and handed it to her husband. She reportedly said to him “There’s something in there you may want.”
Apparently, she was correct. Mr. De Caro looked in, grabbed the gun, pointed it at Mr. Walton, and the wild west came crashing into the Motel 6 with several loud bangs. Mr. De Caro and Mr. Walton exchanged gunfire for less than four seconds. Mr. De Caro was hit three times, but luckily, his injuries did not end in his death. He was rushed to a local hospital, underwent surgery, and is expected to make a full recovery. I believe he was released on or about July 15th.
Mr. Walton was not so lucky. He too was hit several times. He stumbled back out of the hotel room [through the swinging doors of the saloon] and died in a pool of his own blood in the parking lot [in the dusty streets of this wild west town]. He was rushed to the morgue.
Shhhhhhhhhhh. Allow the silence at the end of that last paragraph to have its fifteen seconds of fame.
What are we left with here? What is the sum total of this tragic event?
Mr. Walton was no angel, this is evident. Mr. Walton’s need for drugs lead him into confrontations with the law several times; from his first theft charges in 2007 to his last burglary charge in 2014. That’s what drug addiction does; it destroys what is otherwise a good life, and leaves the addict pleading for the ‘mercy of the court.’ The courts of law may extend some and often do, but the court of human disdain which emanates from consumerist gun culture has none, and so the addict goes on in an ever-downward spiral until either God leads them to a group of people filled with compassion and a willingness to help in any way they can, or………..or the enemy leads them to a Motel 6.
Tomorio Walton was committing a felony crime on June 30th, but he did not deserve to be executed in that hotel room. This is why I placed the word ‘valuables’ in quotation marks above, for it stands as a stark delineation of what we hold as valuable. Were their cash on-hand and diamond rings worth more than Tomorio Walton’s life? I argue ‘no,’ but Ms. Russell and the proponents of gun culture in this country apparently argue ‘yes.’
Ms. Russell is quoted in a story after the gunfight at the OK Corral as saying “The second amendment saved my life.” Nothing could be further from the truth, Ms. Russell. In fact, the maniacal interpretation of the second amendment which is popular with the right wing in this country (‘bear arms’ means carry them with you always) resulted in your husband nearly being killed, and another man actually being killed.
Both Mr. De Caro and Ms. Russell have enough worldly experience to know that Mr. Walton had no intention of killing them or even harming them. He entered their room with a preponderance of force in order to insure compliance with his demand for money and ‘valuables.’ They both knew this, but spun the yarn of guns saving their lives in order to justify their killing of another junkie in need of a fix. Tragic on both ends if you ask me.
Jesus teaches us that the only way we can bring about the ascension of man to be closer to God is to react to this world in the ways opposite of what the world teaches us. This, of course, is not easy. Jesus’ sermon contains enemy love, compassion for the trials of your brother, and forgiveness of sins as a way of life, and if you do not attempt to practice these things as a way of life, you certainly won’t exhibit them in a momentary flash in which you find yourself looking down the barrel of a gun.
It is not easy, and I cannot say with absolute certainty that I could follow his lead in such a moment. I hope that I could…and would.
Still, we each have the chance to choose that better way, and Mr. De Caro and Ms. Russell had the chance to either reduce the cycle of violence in their midst or escalate it in the name of their diamond rings. They chose to escalate it, and now another man is dead at the flashing of guns in America.
Tomorio Walton’s death is a tragedy all around. It was the end of a troubled life that could have someday become a shining light of victory over the evil of this world. It was the death of another man who was loved by friends and family members more than the proponents of gun culture could ever care to know. Also, now we have another man who must go to bed every night haunted by the memory of the night he killed another man. God did not make us for that. He made us to lift each other, not kill each other.
Lastly, I have to take a look at the balance sheet of winners and losers here. Who won in this tragic sequence of events? Satan won. He and his demon servants licked their chops as everything fell into place: The acquisition of gun carry permits, the drug addiction of Mr. Walton, his flight from Tennessee, his acquaintance with Mr. Barrs, the drive to the Motel 6, Tomorio’s taking of the gun from him. When the guns began blazing, they jumped for joy. When Tomorio’s life expired they gave each other high fives and chest bumps.
God, at the other end of the balance sheet, wept.
Peace and Love to all,
Niemand