The Idaho Massacre: Personal Reflections from a Former Resident

I just finished listening to another podcast episode about the Idaho Massacre, as many are calling it now. Interestingly, I’ve never followed a story like this in real-time. I suppose it fascinates me because I lived in Moscow, Idaho, and the surrounding areas for years.

During the time of the murders, I lived in an old country house in Pullman, Washington. Originally, that place was supposed to be a temporary home. It was just somewhere to rest our heads at night while we found a house to rent that we could afford. However, instead of staying there for a year or two, we ended up living there for almost ten years.

Now, my old farmhouse looks cute if you can get past the decades of peeling paint and the ugly-as-hell front porch that never felt safe. All signs point to that house being the perfect murder house. In fact, when I came home late at night during freezing weather, my imagination would run wild. I would envision a bloodied man walking slowly down our dirt road, or killer owls or coyotes, and, of course, explosions. So, what makes my brain go there? I have no idea.

Nevertheless, I guess I’m just feeling grateful that my house didn’t turn out to be a murder house.

When news of the Idaho Massacre broke, I felt shocked, but not scared. A lot of people in Pullman and Washington, however, felt scared, and I understand that. If I lived in a neighborhood instead of being tucked away, surrounded by wheat fields, I might have felt uneasy too. On the other hand, others might think being so far away from other humans would be terrifying, especially with a mass murderer on the loose.

As scary as life feels, I really try not to live out of fear. Moreover, I’m starting to think that might be kind of rare. One thing I’m learning through therapy recently is that fear-based living comes from trauma. While I have my share of trauma, I fight the urge to make decisions based on the possibility that something scary might happen.

I’m not perfect at this, though. For example, I still get scared sometimes, like when I watch a scary movie late at night by myself. DUH! That’s not a great way to help me feel safe, regardless of where I live. In many ways, though, I feel like living in the country for so long created a safe haven for our family. We really needed that safe haven, too.

So, when the Moscow Massacre happened, friends messaged me to make sure my family and I were okay. I think when crazy shit happens, we like to talk about it and revel in the shock of it all. Consequently, I became obsessed with the mystery, just like so many others. I followed the case closely. I read everything I could, including the official police reports. That part fascinated me the most. Seeing it all there in black and white—the facts of the case as factual as one can be when most of the victims died and the one who lived is severely traumatized—was captivating.

Another thing that makes this Idaho Massacre so crazy is how it shows the connections within small-town communities. For instance, my little brother went to school with one of the victims. The therapist Mr. Sexy and I were seeing knew the victims through her kids (if I remember right). She offered therapy to the surviving victim and all the families. I know this because she had to reschedule some of our sessions to make time for them and take care of herself, too. The Moscow Murders messed her up, just like so many other people.

If I had still been in college, the murders would have shaken me a hell of a lot more. I used to go out every weekend night with my friends to party and do stupid crazy shit. For example, I ran by myself at 2 AM all the way across town. I wore nothing but a black cocktail dress, black heels, and my drunk brain telling my body that snow on the ground didn’t mean it was cold. Yeah, that story is completely true, and I’m grateful nothing bad happened to me that night.

When I heard the clips of the victims ordering food just a few hours before the murder, I felt unnerved. It offered a glimpse into someone’s life that we don’t usually get to see or hear. 

In the end, the Idaho Massacre serve as a chilling reminder of how unpredictable life can be and how deeply events like this can affect us all, especially in close-knit communities. It’s a stark contrast between the safety we try to create for ourselves and the harsh reality that sometimes, no matter where we are, tragedy can strike. But rather than letting fear dictate our actions, I believe it’s important to cherish the moments we have and to live fully, without letting the darkness take over. After all, life is too precious to spend it constantly looking over our shoulders.