I find myself returning back to reflect on my own personal experience as i search for context to help explain what may have happened at MCSP in the early A.M. July 22.
I remember one hot summer day spent at the beach in Santa Monica a long, long time ago back in the previous century when i was a youngster of 9 or 10 years old.
This was before the invention of the Morey Boogie board and its subsequent clones revolutionized surf-riding for kids. Instead, we relied on an inflatable canvas "raft" bought at K-Mart or Big 5 Sporting Goods as the vehicle on which to catch a wave and ride it onto the shore.
My brother and i each had a raft which we laid out next to our beach towels on dry sand following a session of surf riding on that particular day. We then proceeded to situate ourselves several yards away down to the tide line where we could dig in the wet sand for sand crabs.
After a while we tired of that and turned around to head back towards our beach towel spot.
As we got closer our beach towels came into view, but our rafts were nowhere to be seen.
Many people had similar looking or even identical looking rafts, so we figured that someone may have mistakenly grabbed ours as they rushed down to meet the foamy Pacific Ocean.
We walked along the water's edge while our eyes scoured groups of kids playing in the rolling tide, looking for any sign of our missing rafts. It wasn't long before we spotted them out in the water, each with a kid about our own ages laid across the raft and guiding it on a surf ride towards the shore.
My brother and I waded out to the two other kids riding our rafts. Once we had their attention, we explained that they were riding our rafts and we had come out to get them back.
The response we received was not what we expected to hear.
"these are not your rafts, these belong to us" said the two kids as they kicked and paddled away. We also turned and began walking back to our beach site, and began to ponder the odd circumstance.
We considered that we might go over to the lifeguard tower, explain the predicament and maybe the lifeguard would enforce the return of our rafts. However, we quickly abandoned that plan.
We weren't happy about the whole situation, but we were already fairly exhausted and not likely to want to use them in the water again that day.
It was wrong for someone to take our rafts, but maybe those kids were from a family too poor to buy rafts and we knew that Mom would simply buy 2 new rafts for us to bring along next time we came to the beach.
So we decided to accept the situation as it was. We returned to our beach site, began to play in the sand and didn't look back.
After a while, out of nowhere some guy suddenly plopped himself down on the sand right next to my brother and I and confronted us.
This was some high school age guy, or maybe a little older and he spoke in a threatening tone.
"Those are not your rafts, they belong to us. If you try to tell anyone that we took your rafts, I'm going to beat you up". He glared at us, stood up and walked away.
My brother and I sat there stunned, speechless.
Who the heck was that guy and where did he come from? He certainly was not either of the 2 kids we found out in the water riding our rafts.
And we had never accused anyone of taking our rafts, we just asked to get them back.
No matter what the kids or the big guy claimed, we knew those rafts belonged to us and not to them. And we knew that they knew that. Our Mom had written our last name in permanent marker on each raft. And I'm certain those kids and that guy did not have our same last name, written in my Mom's penmanship.
But i don't attempt to argue or reason with thugs. Not now and not when i was 9 years old.
And I don't appreciate attempts at intimidation. Especially, when its unnecessary and a waste of my time. You got our rafts, O.K.? So good-bye. Why is someone coming over to interrupt me and threaten me as an epilogue to stealing our rafts?
If I fast-forward a few decades in the development of our modern society, our current diverse culture features at least a few who possess a mentality like the guy in the sand at the beach who might rationalize killing someone like TB staying at the same campground.
Maybe the guy at the beach was the older brother or cousin or uncle of the 2 kids. He stole our rafts from behind our backs and gave them to the 2 kids. And it made him feel like a big shot. The 2 kids will look up and admire him. And then when the kids report to him that someone approached them in the water and asked to get their rafts back - well now Mr. Big shot's fragile ego facade reacts by turning a petty theft into an aggravated assault, for no good reason other than his damaged personality and his warped and violent mentality.
So maybe an altercation at the campground. or not even. maybe a verbal confrontation. or not even. maybe some incident which was momentarily disconcerting, or just trivial to a normal person.
But in the mind of an insecure and hateful




, who brought a semi-auto with ammo to a family campsite. And maybe some drugs which induce a state of paranoia and/or quasi-psychosis.
which after several hours of brooding in the echo-chamber of his twisted mind results in justification to hunt down and terminate someone's husband, some kid's dad in a tent at the campsite and then run out and down the road and hide like a coward. And call later for pick-up and a ride back home.
It's possible he never even spoke to tristan beaudette.
His girls are very young.
His brother-in-law brought his two boys who are a little bit older. And more likely to range out into the campground beyond the constant sight of their dad. Could have had some interaction with some other kids which neither TB, nor his brother-in -law saw nor heard. Or maybe there was some words between 2 adults over some interaction between 2 sets of young boys goofing around out in the campground.
And Mr. Big Shot goes out at 4:30a.m. to claim his respect from T.B.
or the brother-in-law may have been the intended target.
Its fairly easy for someone with a mentality of the aggressor in the hypothetical scenario which I'm trying to present to make a mistake, like killing the wrong person.