You’ve no doubt heard the tale of the lone gunman who on December 14, 2012, followed a well-worn script enacted by others across the years:

1. Decide to go out in a blaze of infamy that will ensure a perverted sort of immortality.
2. Kill the loved one at home who is closest to them, either from anger or to save them from shame.
3. Head to a place where they can kill enough people to ensure notoriety.
4. Shoot, killing as many people as possible.
5. Kill oneself, to avoid the legacy being tainted by survival and trial.

Horrifically, when 20-year-old misfit, Adam Lanza, set out on his morning errand, he was thoroughly armed and meticulously prepared. He first shot his mother. Then he set off with four of his mother’s guns, powerful and legally purchased by his mother. He had hundreds of rounds precision loaded in clips optimized for rapid deployment of their lethal payload. He targeted an elementary school were there would be plentiful victims guarded primarily by women. It was a school he had attended as a young child, perhaps a school laden with painful memories of “normal” children mocking his awkward ways.

Adam wasn’t as successful as he’d hoped. He’d only shot his way through two classrooms when the police arrived. Unwilling to be apprehended alive, Adam shot himself, efficiently killing himself with a single bullet from his mother’s Glock. He was still armed with over a hundred unexpended rounds.

Unfortunately, Adam was more successful than any school shooter other than Seung-Hui Cho, who enacted the 2007 massacre at Virginia Tech. Only the 1927 Bath School disaster has resulted in more deaths of elementary school children. Before Adam killed himself, he killed or fatally wounded 26 others at the school. Twenty of the dead were children ages 6 and 7.

As coverage of the event unfolded, I heard about rabbis, pastors, and priests comforting those in mourning. From the coverage, I heard nothing about any Mormon families being affected by the tragedy, nor did I notice any LDS clergy asked to participate in the interfaith service attended by President Obama. Then as I watched video coverage, I heard Robbie Parker, father of one of the child victims, mention “Heavenly Father.”

I clicked through the information about the Parkers and finally noted a caption indicating Mr. Parker was speaking in front of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The Parkers were from Utah and were clearly LDS.

I had wanted to blog about what happened Friday, but I knew my comments might seem insensitive to some. How dare I have compassion for the killer and his gun-enthusiast mother? How dare I suggest that there was anything but horror in the fact that the children who died were so young? But Emilie Parker and her family will understand.

Adam Lanza appears to have suffered from Autism Spectrum Disorder, like one of my daughters. By all accounts he was socially awkward. He carried a black briefcase in high school. He always kept his shirts buttoned up all the way to the top button. His pictures progress from an adorable photo around middle-school to a gaunt and bizarre-looking young adult.

Despite Adam’s ability to pass courses, I wonder how rational his thought patterns were. His mother had pulled him from school. Attempts to pursue education at the local University had stalled years ago. No matter how much information authorities discover about Adam Lanza’s last days, I don’t know if we’ll ever know how responsible he was at the end. Was he the evil incarnate some have assumed, or was he lost in a fantasy world and no more “responsible” than a run-away truck or some other industrial malfunction?

I loved what Robbie Parker said to Adam Lanza’s surviving family: “I can’t imagine how hard this experience must be for you and I want you to know that our family and our love and support goes out to you as well.” No matter how disturbed Adam had become by December 14th, he was once a smiling and adorable young child himself. No matter how wayward a child is, that child’s death is a tragedy.

I also loved what Robbie Parker said about his own daughter, who is dead. He said, “Emilie is…” Without hesitation or perhaps even realizing his choice of words, it was clear that his daughter, Emilie, is still alive in his heart. Alive in Christ, as Mormon’s letter to his son, Moroni, taught. “Little children are alive in Christ, even from the foundation of the world.”

I am horrified at the loss of innocent life. And yet, they were pure in the sight of God, unblemished by this world. They were and are angels. And the adults who gave their lives to protect these little ones will also be caught into the bosom of God, if any of us have a hope of heaven.

Now, however, come the days, weeks, months, and years of living without those who are gone. We who survive will wonder why these and other innocents have gone ahead and left us behind in this life of shadow. But in the meantime, we can gather around each other and buoy one another up.