When Violence Touches Us All: Reflections on the Death of Renee Good
The recent death of Renee Good has weighed heavily on my heart and mind. It is one of those moments that lingers—not just because of what happened, but because of what it represents for our communities, our country, and the growing sense of fear many of us carry. It is the kind of tragedy that doesn’t fade once the headlines move on. It stays with you, quietly reshaping how you see the world around you.
Renee was not just a name in a headline. She was a person. A life. Someone who mattered deeply to the people who knew her and loved her. She had relationships, memories, routines, and dreams—things that never make it into news coverage but are forever altered for those left behind. When a life is taken in such a violent and contested way, the loss ripples outward. It reaches families, friends, neighborhoods, and strangers alike. It forces us to confront uncomfortable truths about safety, power, and whose lives are protected—and whose are too easily debated.
What makes this tragedy especially difficult to process is how quickly narratives form—often before facts are fully understood. Labels are assigned. Assumptions are made. Humanity gets buried beneath commentary, opinions, and defensiveness. In moments like these, compassion should lead. We should pause, listen, and hold space. Instead, fear and politics often take the front seat, stripping away nuance and reducing a human life to opposing sides of an argument.
For me personally, this event stirred a deep sense of grief and unease. It reminded me how fragile peace truly is, and how close violence can feel—even when it happens miles away. These moments reopen wounds for many who have already lived with trauma, injustice, or fear of authority. When something like this happens, it does not stay contained to one city or one family. It lives on in our bodies, our conversations, and our collective memory. It shows up in the way we move through the world a little more cautiously, a little more guarded.
For the community, Renee’s death represents a fracture in trust. Trust between people and institutions. Trust that safety is guaranteed. Trust that situations will be handled with restraint, care, and humanity. When that trust is broken, it leaves behind fear, anger, and a sense of helplessness that is incredibly difficult to repair. Communities do not heal quickly from these moments—they carry them forward, often silently.
On a national level, this moment reflects a deeper issue—one that extends far beyond a single incident. It speaks to how power is exercised, how force is justified, and how quickly violence becomes normalized in our society. When fear is used as a rationale, it creates an environment where harm becomes easier to excuse and harder to prevent. The lasting psychological impact of that fear—on families, on communities, on entire populations—is a form of terror in itself. It shapes behavior, erodes trust, and alters how people experience everyday life.
What we are left with is grief, questions, and a responsibility to not look away. A responsibility to resist becoming numb. To resist reducing a life to a talking point. To remember that reflection is not weakness, and empathy is not optional.
Renee Good’s life mattered. Her death should not be reduced to debate points or buried beneath shifting narratives. It deserves reflection. It deserves accountability. It deserves remembrance. It deserves a pause—a moment to acknowledge the pain, the loss, and the ripple effect this kind of violence has on us all.
My hope is that we learn to slow down in moments like these. To lead with humanity instead of defensiveness. To listen before judging. To hold space for those who are hurting, even when their pain makes us uncomfortable. And to remember that behind every tragedy is a life that deserved to continue, a future that was cut short, and a community forever changed.
This is not just about one person.
It is about all of us.
