The boys shuffle in from the bright Isla Vista heat outside, eight teenagers dressed in the navy blue polo shirt, slacks, and black-and-white converse sneakers that constitute the uniform of the juvenile detention center a few miles outside of town.
I invite all the lonely, angry, nerdy little boys out there who are feeling that rage and creating a narrative where they are victims to remember that. I was once one of you. And I was wrong. I was so, so wrong.
I was both one of the few witnesses to the crime scene and a photojournalist. It left me confused and conflicted, and I could not help but wonder whether publishing photos of a tragedy is ever justifiable.