Long-Term Aftermath
No lawsuit has been filed on behalf of the estate of the dead gunman. Tim Day’s long-suffering ex-wife was asked by a reporter how she felt toward David George, the man who had killed her husband. She answered, “I don’t judge. He did what he had to do.” Fox News called David “The Good Samaritan Pastor.” One of the witnesses and potential victims at the WalMart, Bryan Adams, spoke for many more when he told a reporter, “He is a hero. He took action. I really think more people could have been shot … he saved us all.”
Detective Lieutenant Jennifer Kolb of Tumwater PD told American Handgunner, “We had a lot of agencies assisting us. This allowed us to complete the investigation in such a timely manner…. Our recommendation was a finding of justifiable homicide; one of the prosecutors did a thorough review over a few weeks, and agreed. There is absolutely no doubt Mr. George saved many lives.”
It’s hard to imagine a more quintessential “Good Guy” than a full-time pastor and volunteer emergency medical technician. And it’s hard to imagine a more archetypal bad guy than a long-term felon, serial abuser, meth-head and spree shooter. This certainly helps the good guy involved to deal with the psychological and emotional aftermath.
What is called colloquially “post-shooting trauma” seems to have two manifestations which are almost universal, no matter how righteous the use of force may have been: some element of sleep disturbance, and the sociological phenomenon the great police psychologist Dr. Walter Gorski defined as “Mark of Cain” syndrome. David George did not escape either.
He told us he stayed up most of that night going over the incident in his mind, tormenting himself with the question, “What could he have done to keep Tim Day from shooting and horribly crippling Rickey Fievez?” Logically, he concluded with what knowledge he had to work with at each stage of the event, he had done the best anyone in his position could.
“Mark of Cain” syndrome is the realization people are treating you differently as a result of your having shot someone. In David’s case, the attention was positive but almost overwhelmingly so.
At David’s request, the police kept his name out of it. They described the Samaritan-rescuer as a pastor in a small town nearby who was also an EMT and lieutenant rank on the local fire department. There weren’t too many folks who fit that profile, and the media quickly sniffed him out. Soon, David told us, “The press was all over it.” He figured a press release would put an end to it, and put one together with the help of Alan Gottlieb at the Second Amendment Foundation.
“The funniest phone call of all,” David remembers, “was from a major network that wanted me on its morning show. I said ‘No, I’m giving a press release.’ She said, ‘This is a hot story, tomorrow no one may want to know it.’ I said, ‘That’s fine with me!’”
Most people in every circle of his life were supportive of the hero who was credited with stopping what might well have become a mass murder spree. But not all. “A few people became standoffish,” he says. He later learned in most of these cases, it was because they simply didn’t know what to say to him.