Please read it cause the rest of this is going to be just feelings and pictures. Sometimes my job requires me to photograph death and what surrounds it. It is thankfully not that often, and typically bothers me for a night and then I can get back to feeling normal. I'm writing this because this is different and I hope getting the words out will help.
She was so young and the crime was so heinous, and it's honestly a scenario that I didn't think happened in the real world, like putting razor blades in Halloween candy. I've never seen an entire town mourn together like this. I don't think there's a single person in Scottsville that isn't feeling something.
My day began at the crime scene from Saturday night and ended at the Doolins' house. I gradually became very melancholy throughout the day as I talked to people in the community and was shocked when I got the call that the Doolins were allowing the reporter and me to come to their home.
They are much stronger people than I am. They talked about who their daughter was and showed us her room. I had a hard time saying anything at all, and I'm still having trouble articulating how I feel other than "sad"
Here are some photos
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