After the Video Ends: What Do You Do?

Hinton.

A name that’s been said, typed, and heard millions of times today.

If you don’t know, he’s the fella who, after watching the body cam of his son’s interaction with police, drove his car into a patrolman. Essentially, after seeing his son die in an officer-involved shooting, a couple of hours after departing the police department, he killed an unsuspecting deputy. From what I could see, the only connection between the man Hinton killed and the officer who shot his son was the uniform.

It’s a volatile situation that’s going to get worse, I think.

Because when Mr. Hinton faced the first sounds of accountability for his actions, the number of officers present was overwhelming. I suppose no one realized that showing up in force to watch an arraignment — seemingly the only thing they could do, which was to stare the guy down — would create viral clips. And the viral clips have people taking sides. All irrespective of the facts.

Facts that won’t truly be known for some time, no matter what the media does.

In other news, we have a new Pope. ICE is conducting raids in new cities. And the other day was a national holiday... I’ve heard. Equally as important, I guess, is the battle Shedeur Sanders will wage on the field, hoping to match his father’s greatness.

Look — Billy Joel’s We Didn’t Start the Fire began with Harry Truman, Doris Day, Red China, and Johnny Ray. It ended with AIDS, crack, hypodermics on the shore… and cola wars. Yes — Coke vs. Pepsi was that big of a thing.

The Pathetic Press - Just Searching for the Next OJ Trial

The decades of news covered in Joel’s song, circa 1990 — we now report that volume of information in a single week. The new Pope? I get it. Billions care. Diddy’s trial? Not sure about that one.

Years and years of working more weekly hours than engaging in self-care — including, but not limited to, sleep — meant I never had time to pay attention to this type of thing. The only reason I bring up Hinton is because I want to ask a legitimate question:

When do people start caring?

And what might be the impact of just a droplet of consideration?

At 9:30 AM, Hinton walks into a police station to watch a video. In it, he sees his son die — in a not-so-typical way of dying. The manner of death, the validity of the shooting — all that stuff isn’t the point here. If the kid pointed a gun at a police officer, he’s getting shot — end of story.

Where I cringe is this: moms, dads, and loved ones watching it happen on TV. Then what? Get pancakes? Anyone with a child should sit with this.

Your kid does something awful. Steals a car. Has a gun. Gets shot and killed. You then watch your child die a violent death — in high def. When you know you're going in to the station to watch the worst thing you'll ever see. Who do you want with you? Who should be there?

Family? Friends? A counselor? Your priest?

The American mental health crisis is real — without watching our children be shot to death on television.

I thought about this twenty years ago, after leaving the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C. What now? Lunch?  Hit the Lincoln Memorial? My recollection was walking in silence — a small group of us — and the images I saw that day have never been forgotten. I felt sick. Maybe now there are people at the exits who can provide triage support for unsuspecting tourists.

It’s not quite the MFA, the MET, or the Louvre Museum experience. It’s sad. It’s bad. And it leaves a mark.

And maybe that’s the point.

Some things should leave a mark.

We’re living in a time where unspeakable trauma is becoming common — content-streamed, clipped, and memed. Death, violence, injustice — all digested between reels and delivered in split-second dopamine hits. We react, comment, share, and move on. But there’s no real guidance for what to do after watching — especially for those whose lives were just destroyed on screen.

So I wonder: What’s the plan?

When a parent watches their child leave this world, what safety net is there for them?

What professionals are present to help that person metabolize what they just saw?

Were they released into the parking lot? Into the world? Back to reality?

Did someone say…

Hey man. Your kid is dead, and as you could see in the video, he had it coming. If you feel like it's your fault… well, that’s your problem. We’ve got work to do. Make sure you put your seatbelt on before you leave — you don’t want to get a ticket.

The truth is, we're ill-equipped.

We talk about mental health like it’s a hashtag, not a lifeline. We tell people to “reach out,” without giving them real places to reach. And when someone breaks — when they snap — we act surprised, even outraged, that grief turned into rage.

No one should justify murder. What Hinton did was unconscionable. But if we don’t at least try to understand the sequence of despair that leads to an act like that, we’re just setting the stage for the next one.

And so we scroll on.

Another day. Another headline.

Another tragedy.

Until it’s not their kid — it’s ours.

So, I ask again:

When do people start caring?

Not performative caring. Not “thoughts and prayers.” But the kind of care that demands we rethink how we support the broken — before they shatter the rest of us. Because if we don’t figure that out, the list of names — of people taken, and people taking — will keep growing.

We didn’t start the fire.

But nor have we even come close to putting it out.