Nine people killed by Santa.
A little girl shot in the face as she happily opens the door for "Old Saint Nick."
Three children lost their mother on the most wonderful night of the year (a wonderful night for kids, anyway.) Scores more people remain traumatized beyond my wildest comprehension, some sedated, ignorning the loads of presents that will bring their recipients no happiness this year. I am so very, very sad for the children and family members for whom Christmas will never again be a joyful holiday and instead will bring nightmares and horrible memories and grief for the rest of their lives.

How could this man have done such a thing?
I am a pretty pragmatic girl who honestly understands (but, for the record, doesn't necessarily approve of) the killing of someone you hate. I even understand an occasional killing of someone you love. I understand killing a stranger or two in a moment of confusion (such as in an armed robbery situation.) But spending months plotting the slaughter of a (former) loved one's friends and family members, including children, on Christmas Eve? And choosing to do it dressed like Santa Claus? I just cannot understand this, no matter how many dark and twisted corridors I take my psyche down in search of the tiny grains of sense that can often be found in even the most awful tragedy. I can manifest at least a bit of compassion for many of the world's most depraved serial killers. But I find none for this guy. Not by a mile.