Disturbing Echoes

As I type this, the hunt for Raoul Moat seems to be drawing to a close. We must hope that Moat will soon be in custody. If not he is likely to be dead. (Which is how it turned out). The appalling Cumbria shootings are a recent memory, their perpetrator, like Moat, labouring under a grievance that twisted logic and narcissistic self-esteem turned into an imagined justification for cold-blooded murder.

A few days ago we were faced with a man who had pursued and lost a civil case, leaving himself with a large bill for the costs of both sides. As so often happens he felt hard done by, and blamed his solicitors for the court's decision. He then issued threats to staff at the firm, who prudently called the police. He now faces charges. Another man, appearing on the same day, had suffered the break-up of an eight-year relationship in which he had fathered children, and, unwilling to accept the situation had harassed his former lover, despite a warning to desist.
Murderous rampages are mercifully rare, but perhaps it is no more than chance that the two recent killing sprees took place a long way from my patch.