(updated from February 18, 20008)
By Edwin Cooney
Like most everyone else, almost any time I hear of a tragedy, the first reaction that enters my mind or crosses my lips consists of the word: why? Very often, however, the question “why” just isn’t enough.
The tragedy that has recently gripped my attention happened during the third week in January in Drexel Hill, Pennsylvania about six miles from Center City, Philadelphia. Fifty-three-year-old Barbara Killian -- blinded from an accident when she was a baby -- and her little white lap dog A-Rod died in the basement of their home by the hand of Barbara’s eighty-four-year-old father Robert Killian who then turned the gun on himself. Mr. Killian had just been released from a local hospital having been treated for advanced cardiovascular disease. Convinced that he didn’t have long to live, Mr. Killian apparently believed he had to provide a permanent solution to what he perceived would be Barbara’s struggles in his earthly absence. Thus, believing as he did that Barbara would be both alone and helpless in this world of expectation, cruelty and demand, he decided that her life should end with his.
Hence, sometime between Tuesday, January 15, when Killian was released from the hospital, and Saturday evening, January 19 at six pm, Robert Killian shot Barbara, their little dog, and himself to death in the basement of their home on Cheswold Road.
According to the sum of all reports out of Drexel Hill, Pennsylvania, Barbara and Robert Killian had lived alone since the death of Shirley, Barbara’s mother and Robert’s wife, in 2001; the Killians “minded their own business;” Robert Killian was extremely protective of Barbara; and, finally, there was a lot of love in the Killian home as evidenced by Mr. Killian’s constant devotion to Barbara.
So there you have it: the who, the what, the where, the when, and, only superficially, the why of the story. Surely, however, knowledge of these guidelines which every news reporter knows brings one no satisfaction. If you’re anything like me, perhaps you need to pause and take it all in before reading on.
In the emotional wake that occurs as one learns of this tragedy, there is the natural tendency to be outraged, not only with Killian’s murder of his daughter, but even more with what was clearly his demeaning attitude about Barbara’s very existence as a person with blindness. There are reports that neighbors called area social services from time to time to complain that Barbara was being “held captive” by her parents in her home, the response to which caused the Killians to retreat further into seclusion with their daughter. Inevitably, one wonders what exactly went on in that household upon Mr. Killian’s January 15th return from the hospital. How long had Robert Killian contemplated this irrevocable deed? What religious or moral matters did Mr. Killian consider before taking Barbara to the basement of their home to meet her death? Did Killian tell Barbara in advance of his intention or was there a reasoned or even gentle pretext to the basement visit? Did Robert Killian see his act as one of love or one of despair?
Information out of greater Philadelphia regarding Barbara Killian’s existence is sketchy but still revealing. A 1973 graduate of Overbrook School for the Blind, Barbara was shy, intelligent and fun-loving. She was a baseball fan of the Yankees, especially Alex Rodriguez whom she had met through an organization for the blind. Thus, she named her little dog A-Rod.
What happened to Barbara Killian has to be very personal on some level to everyone who lives with a disability — especially those who live with blindness. All of us, whether born able-bodied or disabled, are vulnerable to our parents’ individual environments, values, and attitudes. Even more relevant to the Killian family tragedy is the strong parental instinct, the overwhelming need to protect our children from the world’s many outrages.
While we’re certainly justified in our righteous anger toward Robert Killian, that anger alone is as destructive to you and me as Killian’s thirty-eight caliber pistol was to Barbara. It would be more helpful, I think, for us all to re-examine what it means to love and protect one another as well as one’s children.
It would be arrogant for any of us to question Mr. Killian’s love for his daughter. However, Robert and Shirley Killian’s love for Barbara was clearly misdirected as evidenced by their decision to reject a college scholarship, choosing to have her stay at home instead of broadening her horizons. Their legitimate mission was to protect her life and to empower others to ensure her security after they were gone. It’s quite apparent that Mr. Killian was more overwhelmed by his fears than he was sustained by “the better angels of his nature.”
Nothing we can say or write, no wish we can wish, no prayer we may pray, can undo what was done to Barbara Killian by her father. Love is a powerful force. As such it can nurture, sustain, encourage, and therefore foster growth and even greater love. However, if love is administered with jealousy or fear, it can destroy. It appears that the Killians’ powerful love for Barbara went awry and, hence, it destroyed.
Sadly, Robert Killian believed that the world wasn’t sufficiently trustworthy to match his love for Barbara. Hence he took her with him for her own protection.
Happily, most of us know that the world is worthy because you and I are worthy of the kind of love that sustains and nurtures.
So, in the words of a hit song from the 1970s: “Let your love flow…”
Ah, but that's what Mr. And Mrs. Killian did, or thought they did!
The broader deeper question is: How did this happen?
First the babyhood accident: what was its cause and nature? I grew up with a friend who was blinded at age two when his mother accidentally dropped him on his head. My friend Fritz, never tried to explain, blame or excuse the cause of his blindness or his mother's role in it. The causes of illness and/or disability are numerous and even undetectable and lie beyond the power of the inquiry of “why?"
Blindness itself possesses its own set of causes and effects! Most of us tolerate our disability even as we're forced to observe the advantages of others who live with no life-altering disability. Another person I know becomes angry with their disability when experiencing frustration, denial, or especially dependence on the sighted.
Hence, how did Mr. or Mrs. Killian feel about Barbara's blindness? Did they feel guilt or even embarrassment as to their daughter's existence? What was their overall reaction toward human physical, emotional, or even spiritual weaknesses?
Every Fall, new boys and girls were admitted to our sister and brotherhoods at the New York State School for the Blind. One Fall, two boys, Bob and Stan, joined our little brethren. Both had been blinded for about two years. Bob was wounded by a shotgun accident. Even while his family desperately sought a cure for his malady, Bob cheerfully accepted his lot. Stan, on the other hand, sulked and complained to the disgust of many of us including myself. Stan's blindness was the result of a brain tumor. He died in 1965. Insofar as I know, Bob became a lawyer for the state and still lives. (Shame on us blind boys!)
The National Federation For The Blind is right when it asserts blindness is what you live with — it's not who you are!
If only the Killians had been gifted with that perception!
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY