On roads not taken

The tragedy of UT student Casey Bucher's death outside of Maxwell's Brew in July is still fresh in our minds. So much about the tragic event seems to defy explanation and continues to trouble us. Why did cars pass without stopping as Casey was being stabbed, and why did he end up being the one to make the 911 call? Why wasn't alleged killer Lawrence James still incarcerated, or at least monitored to ensure he was continuing to take his anti-psychotic medication? Has Toledo's criminal justice/mental health system failed us?

These questions will be asked for some time—likely always for Casey's family—and they are valid ones. The confluence of random factors with likely oversight resulted in a horrible outcome, which has created great pain for two families and our community as a whole.

The horrific event and the discussion of the lives of both Bucher and James have already been well covered by the Toledo Blade, so I will not elaborate on those matters. However, I would like to reflect on a more personal level.

When this happened, I—presumably like many people who spend much time on or around campus—was shocked and saddened by the news. I felt a sense of unease in knowing I had been in the area where Casey was stabbed, many times. It's that ice-in-your-veins moment of, "It could have been me."

Seeing the spontaneous memorial on the corner where he died shook me to my core and impacted me even further. However, and I do say this with some shame, I found myself feeling relieved I didn't know Casey. However, after talking with a close friend at UT who actually did know Casey and seeing his photograph, a sad realization washed over me: it was the guy.

What I mean by "the guy" is this: last academic year, I spent a lot of time in Scott Hall's computer lab. Generally, when I am there, I have my blinders on because I'm in a hurry or distracted by all the things still needing to be crossed off my errands list. Nevertheless, on a number of my visits I noticed a young man, blonde, neatly dressed, quietly working at one of the computers. When I came in, he always glanced up at me, and he and I would nod a polite hello or just share a quick smile.

That was it; I don't think we ever actually spoke. That may not seem like much, but there was something specific-but-ineffable about him that made me curious. I was not interested in him in a romantic way; I am not in the market for a boyfriend, and quite frankly, I'm a good deal older than him. But there was just something about him that always made me wonder, "What's his story? What is he working on?"

It was a curiosity I did not experience with anyone else constantly breezing in and out of the lab. I think it was because of the alert, purposeful manner he always exuded. A few times, I felt compelled to go over and introduce myself, but I worried he might think I was trying to flirt with him, so I didn't.

I regret that. I wish I'd gotten over my silly fretting and just said, "Hello, my name's Alexandra. What's yours?"

From all I've heard and read, Casey was a wonderful young man. He was kind and polite, professional and compassionate. He was planning on becoming a physical therapist, a vocation that communicates a deep desire to be in service to others. Who knows how he might have impacted the world, had he lived.

I doubt that by introducing myself we would have become the best of friends; but then again, maybe we would have. One of the Blade's articles says Casey's easy manner and level of trust resulted in him making a new friend at Maxwell's just before his death; that person ended up being a key witness in the arrest of James.

So who's to say that—in another confluence of random factors—our friendship could have led to me being the one person to keep him from Maxwell's that evening. Perhaps, because of our friendship, I could have provided comfort for his family in their time of tragedy. Or perhaps by knowing him, he would have enriched my life.

I'll never know, but I wish I had taken that chance.

— Alexandra Scarborough is an IC columnist and a graduate student in philosophy.