Death by Social Media

And radicalization

Image Courtesy Wikimedia Commons

I spent a couple of hours Friday morning talking with law enforcement and school staff in Knoxville the day after they were informed that two boys had made non-credible terroristic threats on social media against the school, the Marion County Courthouse, teachers, and select businesses. The threats were serious enough to be flagged by the FBI and relayed to local officials. The boys are now in custody in the juvenile justice system. I wrote the story as quickly as I could, put an eight or nine-minute interview with the officials on air and online, and thought I was done with it.

But I kept thinking about the often negative role social media plays in our lives, and I remembered a piece I wrote about a terrible incident involving social media that happened in Marion County in 2016. I share a version of it below because its message still resonates. It appeared in a national source which I’m not going to name, and I have redacted names and towns because over six years have passed, and I hope all involved have found peace. 

Death by Social Media from October 2016

I got to the courthouse fifteen minutes early. My footsteps on the terrazzo floor echoed off the walls as I walked toward the staircase to the third floor where the courtroom is. The most serious cases are heard every Thursday at the Marion County Courthouse in Knoxville, Iowa. While our county is almost twice as large in area as New York City, our population is only approximately 33,000. We are served by a magnificent sandstone courthouse built in 1896 in the Romanesque Revival style, with a rotunda that rises from ground level through the fourth floor, with arched windows, wide staircases, and a clock tower. It’s an old-fashioned monument to the power of the state, designed to make even the most hardened criminal feel small and fearful. 

I’m a reporter for KNIA/KRLS radio in Knoxville and nearby Pella. I’d heard through the law enforcement grapevine something big was up, and I was puzzled. I’d looked at the court docket, and no major crimes were listed. Just a normal Thursday of drug-related cases, assaults, and drunks. As I approached the top of the stairs, I heard the gentle rumble of voices. Slowly climbing the last few steps, I saw that a crowd had gathered, which was unusual. There were probably 25 people standing outside the door of the courtroom, and as they heard me coming up the stairs they grew silent and turned to look directly at me as I topped the staircase. I paused to catch my breath for a moment, and looked into what seemed to be a sea of eyeballs. I smiled, and nodded. Some offered meager smiles and subtle nods back as they parted to let me pass, and I went into the courtroom, alone. 

A few minutes later, court was ready to begin. I always sit in the very back row so I can look at my phone without anyone seeing what I’m doing. All the people who were in the hallway had joined me in the courtroom. I wasn’t sure if they were there to support or condemn whoever had been charged. Finally, a woman who looked to be in her 20’s entered in handcuffs. She had long dark hair, and was pale. She looked hollow. Empty. Her head down, she was followed by two police officers. They uncuffed her, and led her to a chair, where she sat with her back to the audience. She was wearing a black and white horizontally striped prison or jail uniform, which told me she was from Xtown. For public shaming, stripes are preferred in Xtown; other inmates in the county wear orange. 

Court was now in session. We were told we were there for an arraignment and that the defendant was 28-year-old Jane Doe of Xtown. She was there to enter a guilty plea to a felony charge of child endangerment resulting in death. As the judge made the pronouncement, a woman in the audience sighed deeply, and a few gentle sobs came from Jane Doe as she fought back tears.

Details of the charges quickly emerged. Jane had placed her 13-month-old daughter Baby Doe in a bathtub with running water, and left the child unattended. For 30 to 40 minutes she took phone calls and accessed Pinterest on her phone. When she returned, Baby Doe was unresponsive. 

I shut my eyes. Maybe I shook my head. I don’t remember. I do remember pulling my chin off my chest. While I don’t know the family, ours is a small world. Most certainly, someone I know and care about is also a victim in this case. And a beautiful, wonderful girl, with infinite potential that would never be realized, was dead. 

As I listened to the calm voices of the judge, and the defense and prosecuting attorneys converse, I pulled my phone from my pocket, looked around to make sure no one could see what I was doing, and typed Jane Doe’s name into the search function on Facebook. I found her. I scrolled down, and there she was with her three young children. All beautiful, and precious. A boy was looking at his mom lovingly, holding her arm. His younger sister was sitting on mom’s left knee, “Big Sis” printed on her shirt. In a matching outfit a toddler sat on the woman’s lap, trying to squirm away. It’s partly obscured, but comments to the photo suggest her shirt says “Lil Sis,” or “Little Sis.” In the photo, Mom is looking down with a loving smile at the toddler, ready to laugh. It’s Jane Doe, and my heart ached for the loving family. The toddler in the photo is Baby Doe. She’s dead. 

Jane Doe stood and confessed. She’s some kind of dead too, I thought, wondering how one could possibly bear such a burden of guilt.

I hunched over, making sure my hands were over the screen of my phone, covering what I was doing. I found her Pinterest page. It was typical of many young women I know. Photos of jewelry, food, toys, dolls and more. Pinterest linked to her Etsy site, where she had set up an online shop to sell her handcrafted jewelry. Her enthusiastic Etsy profile said she is a stay-at-home mom who started crafting jewelry as a creative outlet, and to keep her “sanity,” as she was raising her children.

I was caught up in conflicting thoughts. First anger at Jane Doe, then pity and sorrow. I’ve covered similar heartbreaking stories before. Most recently it was a Xtown childcare provider who left a toddler unattended in a car seat. The little girl asphyxiated on a strap while sleeping. Another toddler slipped from a mother’s grasp as she was trying to juggle two more children on a sidewalk, and ran into the street, hitting the side of a car. Fortunately, he was OK, and suffered only bruises.

Every parent I know recognizes that caring for children is a wonder--a blessing--and certainly the most important thing we do. We also know that it is an inherently risky business. Can we be “on” 24/7/365 for our children? We better be. Leaving a toddler alone in a bathtub for 30-40 minutes is unconscionable. The vast majority of parents have never left a toddler alone in a bathtub for five seconds. Yet, for most of us, caring for our children is a constant worry--might I forget them in the bathtub, might they slip on the ice, might we let them get too close to the street, forget they are riding with us and lock them into the car on a hot day, leave them in the carseat in the parking lot? You name it, and we fear it.

The hearing drew to a close. The defense and prosecuting attorneys presented the case to the judge like a smooth triple play. Jane Doe was along for the ride, caught up in a wave the court system creates for every defendant, guilty or not.

When we and other media who caught our breaking news posted the story on the web and on Facebook, social media did what it does--both good and bad. On a more kinder side, comments ranged from prayers for the family, to statements that it was “so heartbreaking,” and “Wow..so sad!!” and “it happened just like that..here and gone in a matter of minutes,” and a mention on how to use PayPal to help the family pay the bills. The trolls were at work too, opening their arms wide, ready to embrace the karma train, posting that Jane Doe should “rot and burn,” that it was “intentional,” and that she was a “pathetic excuse for a mother.”

Later that afternoon, and digging deep into the quagmire of Facebook comments, trying to figure out who was who, and what each person was saying about the negligent death of little Baby Doe, I clicked back and forth between Facebook and Pinterest for way too long, entranced.

Jane Doe will be sentenced next month. She faces the possibility of spending 50 years in prison for the negligent death of her precious little girl because she was too absorbed with Pinterest and her cell phone to pay attention. 

I’ll be in the courtroom that day to hear what the punishment will be for Jane Doe. But right now I’m wondering what the punishment will be for the rest of us who commit less egregious crimes of neglect, as we too spend too much time online, and unengaged in the real world.

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Jane Doe is now out of prison. I hope Jane and her family have found as much peace as they possibly can. I couldn’t help myself, and Friday I went looking for her presence on social media. I was a little surprised, but she does have a presence, if only a small one. 

On top is a photo of a group of young women hugging, and Jane is one of them. I find great comfort in the fact that she is clearly loved.

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There is another lesson to be learned here in the difference social media played with Jane and the two boys who made terroristic threats this week. In part because of social media, Jane was careless at great cost to herself and others. She paid the price.

The boys used social media to make terrible threats. They too will pay the price. The threats were such that they would make members of the right wing militant groups like the Oath Keepers and Proud Boys gleeful. I’ll never know the source of the boys’ motivation. Perhaps they thought it was a silly prank. I hope so. If not, the consequences are much more dire as it means that they were radicalized, and that there are a great many more just like them across our land.

Maybe they were radicalized at home. Maybe they were radicalized by social media. Or both. Regardless, these radicalization efforts were also aided by a right-wing media and complicit Republican members of Congress who now either ignore or downplay the role Donald Trump and his fellow insurrectionists played on the violent attack on the Capitol January 6.

While it appears that no one in the right wing media or Republican leadership will suffer any consequences for providing the atmosphere for radicalization of our youth, two Knoxville boys, who are in part their victims, certainly will. 

Now how sad is that?

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