Death of a sniper

I’ve never considered myself a proponent of capital punishment. I’m not really an “eye for an eye” kind of guy.

They executed John Allen Muhammad in Virginia last night. He was the “D.C. sniper” whose three-week reign of terror in October 2002 left 10 people dead in the Washington-Virginia area.

Didn’t bother me one bit.

Muhammad’s actions were especially menacing, specifically because the targets were so mundane.

His victims were doing what each of us does every day – running errands, walking across a shopping center parking lot, filling up the car at the local gas station.

They are things we do reflexively, not even really thinking about them, as we go about our busy daily lives.

But not for those three weeks. Suddenly, every seemingly routine action was frought with danger.

That is the hell Muhammad unleashed on us, that terrible thought that we – and our loved ones - are not safe even in doing the most routine drudgeries of daily life.

Muhammad and his teen son used a rifle to terrorize the D.C. area. Last night prison officials used a needle and stuck it in his arm to snuff out his life.

One of the witnesses who lost his wife when she was gunned down as she vacuumed her car at a Maryland gas station, said Muhammad’s death brought a sense of relief.

“I feel better. I think I can breathe better,” he said.

I’m not sure about that. But I’m not in the least bothered by the fact that John Allen Muhammad is no longer breathing on this Earth.

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