The crisis is coming to a head. I sit here at my desk and hear the sounds of normalcy outside my window. I glance over and see a workman in helmet and reflective vest with a leaf blower. From the very first homicide scene I attended, strangely, I felt my eye and attention briefly but repetitively drawn to the normal in such an abnormal setting. It is that way now. I read Obama's book briefly but can't get absorbed. I hear the sounds and see the man working but I cannot get my mind off the body right over there, lying on his back in the kitchen in the red circle of liquid on the floor. This is the gravest crisis in the history of the American Republic and it is coming to a head. I don't know how it is going to end.