Inside Pandora's Box

There are times that I think the world is an evil place.

When I'm at work, I occasionally read the news. And it's very seldom that you read anything good these days. Terrorism, war, campaign mudslinging, missing children, hurricanes, police dishonesty, worldwide political unrest. It's enough to almost make you give up on the rest of the human race.

Lately, the news has been filled with stories of a person with a gun. A person who kills without warning, with a frightening randomness. The lead story changed with every new victim, every press conference with the police, every new clue.

I don't know anyone in Montgomery County, in the DC area. Zappagirl's parents live in Virginia, though. She was going to visit them. My boss at work was leaving on vacation as well, first to Williamsburg, then off to visit her daughter in Maryland. Quietly, I worried for them.

A few nights ago, the news was changing faster than usual. A live announcement broke into Late Night with David Letterman, with a description of a car and a license plate number, and the name of a man wanted for questioning.

Soon, I thought to myself as I looked up from my computer. It will all be over soon.

I fell asleep with the television on, and was awakened by the news that an arrest had been made. I mumbled a sleepy thanks to the universe, and passed out until the alarm went off a few hours later.

All the next day, I checked CNN for the latest updates. And as the details unfolded, I learned about a new name in this tragic story.

It seems there was a man from Northern Kentucky, just across the river. A quiet church-going man, a loving grandfather. He drove a truck for a living, and was two weeks from retirement. Once he had lived in the area of the shootings, and still had family there.

I'm sure as he drove along towards his destination that the news of the sniper was on his mind. The news of it was everywhere; it was unavoidable. As he headed into Maryland, he probably shared the same lingering feeling of anger and apprehension and confusion as many others had.

As he listened to the radio, he heard the reports of the license plate number and the description of the car. In the back of his head, he stored that information.

An hour later, he pulled into a rest stop and saw the car. He called 911, he made the report, he blocked the exit with the help of another trucker and watched history unfold. Watched the horrible events of the last month come to a hopeful end as the police swarmed the rest stop and surrounded the car. All because of his actions.

And this man does not consider himself a hero. In his words, "I done my job, what I thought had to be done - but I'm no hero."

I tend to disagree. Because of this man, communities are returning to a normal life. Children are able to play outside again. Going to buy groceries or fill up the gas tank no longer is accompanied by a heavy fear in the pit of the stomach.

And far away from Montgomery County, in my small apartment, I read all this news with feelings of great relief. I will probably never meet Ron Lantz. Our paths will never cross. I will never be able to thank him for what he's done for thousands of people I will also never meet. I will never be able to thank him for what he's done for me.

Because of this stranger's actions at a rest stop I will never visit, the world doesn't seem to be as bad a place to be. The human race doesn't seem to be a lost cause.

Because of one stranger's courage, I have hope again.