What Matters More?

“Kerrie.”

Spring 2022

During those much-needed emotional breaks while writing The Deafening Sound of Sorrow, that familiar voice—the very same one that sparked the rewriting of the book—would at times echo in the back of my mind, repeating the question he had asked me over a year ago.

“You don’t care who killed Kerrie!?”

With all my heart—I do care.

But…

My mind would always drift back to 2019, when 51 lives were tragically taken in the mosque shootings in Christchurch, New Zealand. In the aftermath, Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern made a powerful call to action for social media platforms and news outlets to withhold the shooter’s name.

“He sought many things from his act of terror, but one was notoriety—that is why you will never hear me mention his name.”

I remember thinking how brilliant she was. Rather than humanizing the violence by giving it a name, Prime Minister Ardern chose to define the perpetrator by the horrific nature of his actions—terrorist—instead of the name his mother had, in good faith, given him.

Then, Prime Minister Ardern promptly shifted her focus on what truly mattered—her country’s grief and tremendous loss—in turning that pain towards a positive purpose by, swiftly and courageously, trudging down that unpopular path by banning all semi-automatic weapons within New Zealand’s borders with initiating a nationwide buyback and amnesty program. She truly was a world leader.

IF Kerrie’s killers are ever brought to justice and their names finally revealed—even if those names once crossed my lips—they will never be spoken by me again. They forfeited their humanity the moment they took hers. I judge them not by the color of their skin or what they believe in but by their actions alone. To me, they will always be monsters.

I also truly believe—with all my heart—that Kerrie’s monsters have multiplied over the past thirty-nine years. They may not have committed the act themselves, but if they know something—if they overheard, were told, or even suspect the truth—yet still choose to remain silent, they now bear the weight of that choice. Their final act as a human being is complicity in their conspiracy of silence. They are just as guilty as if they had hidden among the shadows of those spruce, pine, and aspen trees on that horrific October night.

…rather than give any more power to the monsters, I choose to write about how her brief life affected mine, and on those she left behind.

Why?

Because Kerrie’s beautiful memory matters more.

Coming up next: Ode to Literary Agents… (spoiler alert: Those pesky gatekeepers.)