Killer treatment

Arkansas funeral home delivers compassion

On Nov. 25, 1963, one of the most notorious killers in all of history, himself the target of an assassin’s bullet, was buried in Fort Worth, Texas.

On the same day the nation watched the funeral for its slain president, funeral directors in Fort Worth went about the task of bury- ing John F. Kennedy’s killer. No crowds gathered for Lee Harvey Oswald at Shannon Rose Hill Memorial Burial Park. His wife, children, mother and brother mourned his death, but understandably, nobody else cared to show their respects. After a 10-minute service, it was time to move Oswald’s casket to the gravesite. Who would be his pallbearers?

In what must have been an odd and uncomfortable moment, a funeral director looked to the handful of reporters there to document the affair. First, one refused, but he and others joined in after a reporter for United Press International agreed to help out. Why? Only they could say, but they were there to cover a funeral, and it’s hard to bury someone if there’s no one to carry that casket to the final resting place.

Perhaps, too, there were thoughts about the smattering of mourners. None of them pulled the trigger. They were just another family in shock, coping not only with death in the family, but also the weight of the terrible act he had committed against the American people. Funerals really aren’t for the departed. They’re for those left behind.

Violence, such as that that took President Kennedy’s life, will always be present. As we’ve seen in 2016, it can erupt anywhere. It’s difficult to understand its perpetrators and the kind of thinking that allows their quarrel with society to become their motivation for brutality.

The recent killings of police officers have shocked all those whose sensibilities remain firmly rooted in right vs. wrong. No justification exists for such attacks. And the perpetrators, perhaps, never pause to consider the lasting damage they are doing not to those they target, but to those they love. The ones who have raised them, cared for them, stood beside them.

Gavin Long killed three law enforcement officers in Baton Rouge and wounded three others during what police called an ambush. A SWAT team member ended the attack when he shot Long.

Another community mourns the killings of the people in uniform who devote themselves to protecting their communities. And another family has to quietly bury a family member whose act has defied explanation. The legacy Long left behind includes a burden his family and friends will carry for the remainder of their lives even though they didn’t do anything wrong. Who will bury the killer? Here’s where the Arkansas connection comes in. Beulah Kincaid, owner of Kincaid Funeral Services in Helena-West Helena and Forrest City, got a call last week from a Kansas City woman with roots in Arkansas. Would the funeral home bury her son, the woman asked. Kincaid didn’t recognize Gavin Long’s name and realized his connection to the Baton Rouge violence later while making arrangements.

At Lee Harvey Oswald’s funeral, the pastor originally scheduled to conduct the funeral service never showed. And in 2016, many wouldn’t blame Kincaid if she backed out. Some in her profession probably would have. Not her.

“We are definitely going to handle the final disposition,” she recently told this newspaper’s reporter. “I have to do it. That’s the job I’m in. My heart goes out to all the victims. This mother is hurting. My heart goes out to this family and everyone involved.”

Something tells us Beulah Kincaid picked the right kind of work.

Gavin Long is dead. Kincaid probably would have gained fans if she had chosen to reject his body because of the evil he perpetrated. Instead, she focused not on the one who is going into the ground, but on the family members and friends left to deal with his disturbing acts and to mourn.

In a world with its full share of violence, thank God for the Beulah Kincaids of the world who can demonstrate compassion in the midst of trying circumstances. Violence makes the headlines, but it is acts like hers that will make the kind of lasting difference our world needs plenty of.