don't read this unless you feel like reading a really sad story

I've been in an obsessive loop for the past several days about a deeply unsettling crime that happened here in Atlanta last week. I'm writing about it here in an effort to sort through it and hopefully lay it to rest.

Eugenia “Jeanne” Calle, was murdered in her condo on Tuesday morning. I don't know Calle. I never met her. She was a single white woman living on her own (that's Particularly Interesting Note #1). She was in her late 50s and had just retired after a lifetime of award-winning work in cancer research at the CDC. She had recently put her condo on the market. Her plan was to sell the unit and move in with her fiance.

On Tuesday morning, while walking through the lobby of her condo building, she overheard Shamal Thompson, a 22-year-old black male, chatting with a real estate agent about touring two condos for sale in the building. Thompson was acting as if he had an interest in buying a condo.

She popped into their conversation and said, "Don’t forget about my condo. It’s for sale, too."

Thompson expressed interest in her condo and said he would follow up with her. After he toured the two other condos, a security guard called Calle and said that Thompson was in the lobby, ready to look at her unit.

“Would you like for me to escort him up?” the guard asked Calle.

“No, it’ll be fine,” Calle responded. “I don’t want him to think that we don’t trust him." (That's Particularly Interesting Note #2).

Of course, things went badly. Thompson murdered Calle (it's not clear exactly how, but she died of blunt force trauma to the head). After he killed her, he stole several credit cards and valuables, and slipped the diamond ring off her finger. Then he moved her body into the walk-in pantry, took her electronic access swipe card for the building, and closed the door to the pantry.

He left the building and then went directly to a birthday party in Atlanta for a girl he had a crush on. He presented the birthday girl a bottle of very expensive champagne and a diamond ring. He posed for many pictures at the party. Fellow party-goers described him as "fun" and "charming."

- - - - - -

Particularly Interesting Note #3: Thompson came back to the condo building the next night. He arrived with a couple of friends. Maybe he was going to steal more property. Did he think that no one cared enough about this woman to miss her? Did he think he now owned the place since he had murdered Calle?

Calle's fiance had discovered her body the night before. Of course he had alerted police immediately. So law enforcement was all over the building. Security guards became suspicious of Thompson's attempt to enter the building and turned him away. A security guard took down the license plate of his vehicle and called police. He was arrested shortly after and was immediately charged with the murder.

I guess that's the good part of this story. This person is now behind bars.

- - - - - -

Perhaps I shouldn't be thinking about this story. Perhaps I should just try to forget about it and go read Happy News or something. Really, I wish I had never read this story. I just can't shake the particular awfulness it. Particularly Interesting Note #4 is that the condo building in which this poor woman lived across the street from one of my client offices where I have spent a lot of time in the past few years. This story feels very local and very personal.

- - - - - -

On Thursday afternoon I was at my apartment alone. In an idle moment, I looked absently out window to the carport behind the building. I spotted a young black man there, smoking a cigarette and walking slowly, gazing up at the buildling.

Odd behavior. I know all of the residents of the building. He was not a resident. No one ever goes out behind the building unless they're a resident walking to or from their car. A non-resident loitering in the parking lot with no apparent reason is suspicious.

I watched him carefully. And I thought of my burglary in December 2007. In the grand scheme of things, it was a trifling little burglary, but at the time, it was very upsetting and sickening. The police never solved the crime.

I absolutely hate the concept of assuming culpability to someone I do not know. I've read Malcolm Gladwell. I'm familiar with the story of Amadou Diallo. But my spider sense said, "Hey! I wonder if that's the guy who broke into my apartment!"

The young man lingered. No one else was around. He gazed appreciatively at the building, at the ground, at the cars parked in the carport. My pulse was pounding at this point. He strolled on, and I lost sight of him as he rounded the far corner of the building.

This was even more suspicious behavior. Not even the landlord visits that side of the building. It's an very narrow little alley where rain-soaked leaves gather, and squirrels hide nuts.

I put on my shoes, picked up my phone and keys, and ran outside. I didn't know what I was going to do. I just knew I had to see what this person was doing. I considered calling the police. The mere thought felt uncomfortable. I kept thinking, I haven't seen this person do anything wrong. I am being a stereotypical hysterical white woman.

I burst out of the building and ran down the steps to the street. There was no trace of the young man. I started walking up the block, growing both more frightened and more angry by the second. A few steps into my journey, I heard a rustling of leaves and -- presto! There he was! He emerged from the narrow alley beside the building, the alley where people never go. He glanced at me and then down at the ground. I stared right at him. He ignored me and strolled casually by. (It is interesting to me how staring directly at someone in this context feels like an act of confrontation and violence. I was staring at him, flinching, scared of what it meant to stare at him! It was very hard to stare at him.)

He just shuffled away. I stood there, breathing hard, clutching my keys. Finally, after he was out of earshot, I said quietly, "I have my eye on you!"

- - - - - -

I probably should have called the police. It seems fairly obvious that the guy was casing the joint. Why else would he be casually strolling around in a carport, walking down a gutter. But I didn't. I felt guilty for making assumptions. Me and my white guilt. Suspicious, snoopy white woman asks police to pester poor black high school kid! Let the healing begin!

- - - - - -

I just feel so sorry for Calle. I feel so sorry that this sequence of events is a possibility in this world. I'm all for looking at the bright side of things, and I'm all for assuming the best about people, including total strangers. But it is deeply distressing that she made a point to trust this young man and was punished so brutally for it.

That is all. I never met Calle, and I never will. And realistically speaking, two weeks from now, I will probably have forgotten that this horrible, horrible thing happened. But right now, it feels profoundly upsetting, and I don't know what to do about it.