I can’t remember when it began. I was probably a small child, unaware of my surroundings further than my playing room and my parents, when he arrived in town. I only know that from when I can remember, he had lived in the next house and no one had been safe from his madness. They say that at the beginning it was harmless. Just an odd guy, too quiet, who spent all the time alone and made a lot of effort to avoid human contact with his neighbours. He bought a carbine and went to the mountain, built a cabin and began to spend a lot of time there alone he with his carbine and the animals. We were afraid of him, because he was becoming more and more surly and moody. His mind didn’t work normally. His brother had tried to commit him to a psychiatric hospital without success. They told him he was not sick enough to be admitted permanently. But people in the village were scared. The convenience store owner was worried because the man had burst in ire more than once when some article he was searching was not available.
That terrible day he came down from the mountain and decided to go to his house. It was his only possession, and he was proud of it. But he found out that a large group of vandals had settled in the building. They had broken some windows, ruined the furniture torn out family pictures, and painted graffiti on the walls. The group was violent and insolent and when the owner tried to tell them to leave, they began to shout and laugh at him. He said nothing and left quietly. He went directly to his van, took his carbine and shot the first person that crossed his path. That day our village was the scene of a random murder. An innocent woman died because some vandals triggered the full madness of a very sick and dangerous man. Later during the trial the doctors said he was too sick to know what was he doing when he shot his victim. But the fact was that a woman was murdered at the end of a tragic, cruel chain of events.