Madelaine Baines looked out at the sight in front of her, moved and inspired. She knew that her rallying cry to the community had gained a lot of traction on Facebook and Twitter – and subsequently a mention on the local news bulletins – but still she hadn’t expected such an impressive turnout. People were heading into Granary Park from all quarters, carrying flashlights, lanterns, candles, as well as pictures of Jacob Jones and Rochelle Stevens. It was at once intensely sad and also incredibly moving, deep grief mixed with defiance and determination.
The vigil was due to begin shortly, so Madelaine took a moment to cast another eye over her speech. She had had to write it quickly and hoped that she would acquit herself as well as the other community leaders on the hastily erected stage. They had the local priest, a prominent politician, a friend of Rochelle’s, but it would fall to Madelaine to conclude proceedings. She hoped she’d prove worthy of the task – she had not asked to be the de facto leader of this vigil, but as she had set the ball rolling, it had kind of just happened. Now she suddenly felt nervous, as well as excited – she was used to community work, but public speaking was not her thing.
She had been so invigorated this morning, contacting local dignitaries and opinion shapers, mobilizing those whom she knew would care, that she had never stopped to think what she might have started. Now, as she looked down at the local citizens gathering in the small community park, she started to get an inkling of it. The square was filling up quickly; soon not an inch of grass would be visible. It was heartening to see that there were still so many people out there who cared. A couple of TV crews circled, talking to local residents, taking shots of the growing crowd. Madelaine had wanted the media to be present of course, but still the sight of them set butterflies dancing in her stomach.
Madelaine ran through her lines once more, reminding herself to speak slowly, to make the words count. After all, this wasn’t about her feelings, it was about keeping people safe. If she could alert people to the dangers, if she could focus minds on rooting out this evil, then she would have done her job. And who could doubt this crowd’s determination or their reach? They were packed into the park, linking arms, lighting candles, occasionally even breaking into song. It was awesome to behold, an expression of stoic solidarity as young, old, black, white, gay and straight stood shoulder to shoulder, their candles and lanterns flickering in the breeze. It was more than just a statement of an intent.
It was a thing of beauty.