One-Horse Prophecy: Tragic Predestination Disguised as Small Town Americana

One of the best men I know buried his son today.

A few days ago, the news of the son’s death was splattered across Facebook. It traveled on slurred speech across bar tops and on the semi-whispered tones of small-town gossip from behind newspapers and over steaming cups of harshly strong coffee.

And it landed flatly on the ears of the unsurprised.

Those who knew Ricky Clay knew that he had been in trouble his entire life. Those who weren’t aware of his personal misadventures were aware of those of his three brothers. And those who weren’t specifically aware of any of those could still readily accept any dirt associated with that long-sullied family name.

Every small town in America has a family like the Clays. For generations, the males in that family have been at odds with local law enforcement. As young boys, they struggled in school. As teenagers, they missed a lot of school and spent a lot of time expelled before barely making it through or dropping out all together.

They all ended up in jail, usually more than once. Some of the more persistent…