The Anatomy of a Hate Crime

The Club Q shooting continues to dominate the news

New evidence from the Club Q shooting of November 19 continue to ripple through the Front Range communities of Colorado, adding new dimensions to the shooter’s possible motives and new threads to explore, as we try to understand what this all means.

We have gone from what seemed to be the model of a hate crime—an attack on a gay nightclub in Colorado Springs--with a rush to condemn anti-LGBTQ hate—to a multifaceted crime committed by a troubled and complex individual, whose hate spanned a much broader spectrum.

Hate rhetoric is targetted

In the initial days following the November 19 attack, newspapers were quick to identify hateful rhetoric, which they found in the school policy of the Archdiocese of Denver restricting admittance of non-binary students and involvement of same-sex parents. Although the Office of Catholic schools exercises its legal right as a religious organization to uphold the doctrines of the Church as a model in its faculty and policies, the Denver Post had discovered the policy statement and publicized it weeks before the incident, seizing upon this immediately as an example of rhetoric that could fan the flames of anti-LGBTQ hate.

Evidence began to unfold as the days went on, showing that the perpetrator, Anderson Aldrich, themself was non-binary. Aldrich had threatened family members in June, prompting 911 calls. Despite Aldrich’s possession of an AR-15 rifle, full body armor, and another gun under construction; despite multiple threats, law enforcement had not managed to bring a Red Flag restriction on this individual.  The focus began to shift to the role of firearms and the failure to take action after credible warnings from those Aldrich had already threatened.

Club Q perpetrator shows signs of mental illness

Evidence of mental illness had also begun to appear—particularly stemming from troubled teen years, in which the perpetrator had been badly bullied. Both parents had multiple arrests and showed signs of mental illness. After their divorce, Aldrich lived with grand-parents much of the time.  His mother had asked for help finding a “trauma/PTSD” specialist in the months preceding the shooting.

Aldrich threatened family, Christians, government

Now, on December 21, a new article from the Denver Post (Records: Family called FBI, 911 about threats before ’21 standoff) brings out a novel piece of evidence: The family of Aldrich had called the FBI and El Paso County law enforcement the day before an alleged previous incident, in which the suspect had threatened them with a bomb, creating a police standoff.  They called these agencies “to report the suspect was threatening violence against relatives, Christians and the government, records show.” (emphasis mine)

Christians? Given the evolution of this story over the past month, this was an unexpected twist.  Documents show that Aldrich’s great-aunt, his grand-father’s sister, “told the 911 dispatcher that Aldrich was going to kill Christians and “anyone who has anything to do with the government.” His hatred of the government makes sense, given that his maternal grand-father had likened January 6th to the first shots of the American Revolution. But Christians?

This does make sense, given the position of their LDS Church on LGBTQ issues and Aldrich’s own non-binary identity. But healthy people do not take up arms against those who disagree with their choices.

The point this new information makes clear is: the November 19 mass shooting could have taken place at the El Paso County sheriff’s office, at the US Airforce Academy, or at a local church. All of that pent up anger could have splayed its force in a bombing of the El Paso County Courthouse, or a massacre at a local grocery store or school.

Hate is hate

Hate is hate. I know this is like saying “All lives matter.” It’s true, but it doesn’t serve the purpose, which is to call attention to the very real targeting of a group for discrimination or violence. But while we all know that life matters, some are oblivious to the way hate can fuel hate. In calling attention to antagonism towards one group, is it necessary to target another group? It’s one thing, for example, to say that  African Americans have been treated unfairly in multiple ways during our country’s history, but does it help to focus in on white people, who may or may not have deliberately fostered that discrimination? In doing so we create more antagonism, not less.  The same goes for zeroing in on the Mormon Church, or on Catholics, for beliefs that may not be encouraging to LGBTQ beliefs, as if these were the enemy in a battle of hate.

People today do not remember that the KKK burned crosses at Catholic churches, and bombed Jewish synagogues and  liberal Protestant churches. Churches are as  likely to be an object of hate as anyone, and that kind of hate is no better than anti-gay hatred.

The antidote to hate is loving understanding

The antidote to hate is loving understanding. You don’t love by annihilating your own beliefs, but by trying to understand those of another and bringing them into dialogue. Both sides can grow from an honest discussion of differences, when there is willingness to comprehend another point of view. Fear prevents us from exposing our cherished beliefs to scrutiny, but when we can do so, well-founded truths grow even stronger.

There are reasons why the Church does not espouse LGBTQ philosophy, even while we embrace people of this community with love and understanding.  We can whole-heartedly grieve over the violent act that left 5 dead and several injured at Club Q, but the solution is to go forward together to seek peace in our communities.