That familiar feeling of nausea crept into my stomach when I heard the words “middle school.” I don’t do well with dead kids, especially murdered ones. Then I was informed the victim was an adult—that was something of a relief. It didn’t make the crime any less a crime, but it did quell my nausea a bit. Some crimes just have a surrealistic aura about them and seem to take on a life of their own. I guess that almost mystical notion stems from trying to make sense out of situations that just don’t. The murder of Edwin Robillard was an unusual homicide from the “git-go.” Sadly, I knew the area from previous official visits in the vicinity. The last time I was in this neighborhood, a dead man was found just opposite the school. He had been beaten and strangled to death with a phone cord. He’d made a lasting impression on me, and I had no trouble finding the school. I did have a little trouble navigating past the numerous vehicles already surrounding the site. A ladder was set against the front of the school building to allow access to the crime scene, and of course there were the news cameras.
