BEYOND THE REASON WHY

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 for what he perceived would be Barbara’s troubles in his earthly absence. Thus, believing, as he did, that Barbara would be both alone and helpless in the world, he decided that her life should end with his. So, sometime between Tuesday, January 15, 2008 when Killian was released from the hospital, and the following Saturday evening 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, 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.

Thus the question is: what’s our love for one another all about? If our love is laden with fear or controllingly possessive, perhaps it’s best to keep it to ourselves. However, if our love is about nurturing and trusting, even at times when others’ needs are beyond our full comprehension, then in the words of a popular song of the mid-seventies, by all means “let your love flow!”

RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY

Updated: originally published February 18, 2008