In the days that followed, the noise never really stopped; it only changed pitch. Experts parsed statutes and case law while neighbors whispered about the boy who stocked shelves and checked on elderly patients after double shifts. His mother watched people argue over whether her son was a monster or a martyr, as if those were the only choices left. The country dissected his last night, but not the quiet years that came before it.
What remained was a hollow shape where a life used to be, outlined in headlines and court filings. Alex became a measuring stick for fear, for power, for whose mistakes are survivable. His story settled into that uneasy gap between rights and responsibility, law and mercy. In that gap, the question he left behind still hangs there, unanswered: how many more names until the line is finally drawn.
