[I say "is" intentionally. I will continue to say "is" until I know for sure otherwise.]
She went missing two weeks ago — Saturday, September 13 — after leaving a house party. Alone.
I don't know all of the details of Hannah Graham's disappearance.
I don't know why no one went with her when she left the party.
I don't know how long after her 1 a.m. text saying, "I am lost" her friends alerted someone in authority.
I don't know how she ended up with a stranger on the Downtown Mall.
Some of these things may never be known unless and until she is found alive.
What I do know is this: alone is dangerous.
A friend of mine posted this on Facebook:
This is the clearest lesson that I was able teach [my girls], given the recent video footage and details of the events leading up to the abduction of Hannah Graham. PLEASE teach them this! Not every person looks out for their best interest, as they are so accustomed to their parents doing. Every young person, male and female alike, needs to be aware that even the best of friends WILL leave you alone at a party, not monitor your drinking, not notice that you're missing, not drop what they're doing to come get you, not accurately gauge danger, not alert your parents or authorities quickly enough, etc. The selfish years are called that for a reason. You are angels among an evil world. Be aware and responsible.
My sorority, Chi Omega, recognized that alone is dangerous. And that alone and intoxicated is worse. That is why Chi-O had an account at a local cab company. If a sister had been drinking and needed a ride home, they could call and charge the ride to the House. No questions asked.
But the thing that I just remembered ... the thing that made my heart rise up in my throat ... is something my brother did for me when I first started school at UVA. He took me by his fraternity house during orientation week and introduced me to some of the guys there. He had graduated two years prior and came back a lot for football games, so he still knew a lot of people. And they knew him.
When I wasn't around, he gave them a talking to that I only heard about because someone heard it and told me later.
"You see that girl there?" he said. "That's my sister. I want you to remember her. If she comes by here, you take care of her. You make sure she's OK. And if she leaves, she doesn't leave alone. You walk her back to her dorm. Make sure she gets there safely. If anything happens to her after being here, I will hold you all personally responsible."
That one act spoke love to me in a way I had never heard it from my brother before. Or, perhaps, since.
It is our responsibility — all of our responsibility — to let our loved ones know that they are not alone. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. In their grief. In their celebration. In their stress. In their joy.
God placed us in families. In communities. In sororities and fraternities and dorms and neighborhoods. So we would not be alone.
Because alone is dangerous.
I think I'll go call my brother.
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