Erik Ayala

The reports on the Erik Ayala massacre in downtown Portland this week are the same as the reports of all the others. The killer was young, quiet, kept to himself. He had a history of mental problems and depression, but had been showing no signs of violence. He had no criminal record, and he was perfectly calm when he walked into the pawn shop and bought a semi-automatic pistol shortly before he turned it on a group of girls, walking down the same street I walk down every time I hit the town, just like they were doing.

There are a few things people have been clinging to as the blame for all of this. The Oregonian put in big headline letters, “fan of video games.” The Tribune was quick to point out that he was born in Mexico, though they downplay the fact that he legally entered the country and was completely assimilated. Today the media focus on how easy it was for someone with a history of mental issues to acquire a gun.

Basically, nobody gives a fuck about this kid; somewhere inside of them they’re grateful that another group of innocent bystanders was shot down in cold blood, because with all the optimism we’ve had recently, they were running out of statistics to point to in furthering their cause.
Me, I noticed the little things. The fact is, I’ve written a suicide letter in my head much like the one which was published from the kid. I’ve written the letter not because I’m suicidal, but because sometimes I’m just angry enough at someone that I want them to have my death on their conscience for a little while. Your mind goes to dark places when it’s past its pushing point.

But you can only have that much anger towards someone you love, and anyone with any empathy could never do that to someone they love. So your mind recovers, and you move on to better times. You turn to your friends, you rant to your parents, you lash out at your significant other, and they understand it’s just something you’re going through.

That’s where Erik Ayala was different. He was detached from his parents. His friends were there but unsupportive—after the incident, none of his friends even knew he was fighting depression. Erik didn’t have any loved ones, and he was just a temp—there was no one he could turn to at work. He didn’t have people who loved him. He just had anger. So he found a group of people he felt he could kill without guilt, probably to ensure that his suicide didn’t just disappear without notice, and then turned the gun on himself, punishing all the people he loved for not loving him back.

I’d like to share something from this story that affected me on a personal level. For any of you who have followed this blog, you will know that I have long faced problems being happy at work. With that in mind, I want to share with you what Erik's old employers said about him (not at the temp agency; at the place that laid him off after two years of service). They asked his old employers what they remembered of him, and this is exactly how they replied:

Erik was our top employee in terms of reaching performance standards both for production and low error rates.

That’s the bonds we have at work. That’s how people who you’ve spent 2/3 of your waking hours with remember you. They ask what someone was like whom they’d known intimately for two years, and that’s how they answer.

If you want to start asking questions about how someone can slowly collapse into homicidal depression without anyone noticing, I’d like to suggest that this is where to start looking.