In addition to the victim being attractive, young, and white, apparently the mystery of her disappearance and the behavior of the fiancé, plus all the tantalizing clues left from her social media posts, really sparked people’s interest.
I get why this story is news. It's a young, attractive, white girl. The circumstances behind her disappearance and death are fishy, involve a pre-determined antagonist, and quite easy to package to the public. It fits the bill for the typical news cycle. Killed isn't the key. The key is the mystery/circumstance. If this were a cut and dry murder it wouldn't make the news. What is really bothering me though is that legit everyone is pinning this on the guy and automatically assuming A) he killed her and B) he was abusive towards her (or otherwise at fault for her disappearance or the problems in their relationship). Nobody knows a damn thing about this case, so, maybe chill for a sec while we gather evidence?
Had I followed them, or knew of them via social media prior I probably would find this more interesting. However I think the intrigue is because, especially with young people, there are these type of social influencers who create a facade lifestyle that is staged in order to allow people to live vicariously through them... and you see here that it's all fake, and these people's lives are just as screwed up if not worse. The intrigue now is the murder mystery part of it where the questions are, of course he did it, but how did it happen, was the murder of the two lesbians in the same area at around the same time related, and what will happen next with the boyfriend/killer. Americans are suckers for murder mysteries, and sagas where there's time in between the next turn of events that they can theorize about. But this one is sad because this isn't Loki, or Breaking Bad. There's a real family here, and the potential that the killer here is going to not face justice because the police should have acted faster to put eyes on him at all times under court order.
this is 2021, this thing went viral on all social media networks. you forgot this one thing she was a POPULAR YOUTUBER.
imagine being with a girlfriend on a trip. someone kills her. you panic and instead of going to the authorities, you run back to mommy and daddy. then the story blows up and then you are on the run trying to find the real killer. you are a Fugitive at that point.
So you think there's never been an attractive black women or girl who's gone missing? You realize what you are saying here?
Imagine how grief stricken Brian Laundrie is over losing the love of his live. Imagine. Why can't everyone just leave Brian Laundrie alone?
If you look around there's video of them being pulled over. Speeding and swerving. Dude has cuts on his face from her getting handsy and he even says she pulled on the steering wheel and that's why they swerved. The relationship was obviously not a good one and she seemed probably crazy. The guy needs to be found and tried and sent to prison. Stay away from toxic relationships is all you can take away from it. I didn't get the impression it was premeditated, I think he snapped. Hopefully he's caught soon.
No, that's not what I'm saying... that's what you're saying. I'm simply making the point that attractiveness is an important ingredient here. If Gabby was fat no one would care.
This is the longest proper and printed sentence in history. Read that onetime longest sentence in literature, all 1,288 words of it, below. Just exactly like Father if Father had known as much about it the night before I went out there as he did the day after I came back thinking Mad impotent old man who realized at last that there must be some limit even to the capabilities of a demon for doing harm, who must have seen his situation as that of the show girl, the pony, who realizes that the principal tune she prances to comes not from horn and fiddle and drum but from a clock and calendar, must have seen himself as the old wornout cannon which realizes that it can deliver just one more fierce shot and crumble to dust in its own furious blast and recoil, who looked about upon the scene which was still within his scope and compass and saw son gone, vanished, more insuperable to him now than if the son were dead since now (if the son still lived) his name would be different and those to call him by it strangers and whatever dragon’s outcropping of Sutpen blood the son might sow on the body of whatever strange woman would therefore carry on the tradition, accomplish the hereditary evil and harm under another name and upon and among people who will never have heard the right one; daughter doomed to spinsterhood who had chosen spinsterhood already before there was anyone named Charles Bon since the aunt who came to succor her in bereavement and sorrow found neither but instead that calm absolutely impenetrable face between a homespun dress and sunbonnet seen before a closed door and again in a cloudy swirl of chickens while Jones was building the coffin and which she wore during the next year while the aunt lived there and the three women wove their own garments and raised their own food and cut the wood they cooked it with (excusing what help they had from Jones who lived with his granddaughter in the abandoned fishing camp with its collapsing roof and rotting porch against which the rusty scythe which Sutpen was to lend him, make him borrow to cut away the weeds from the door-and at last forced him to use though not to cut weeds, at least not vegetable weeds -would lean for two years) and wore still after the aunt’s indignation had swept her back to town to live on stolen garden truck and out o f anonymous baskets left on her front steps at night, the three of them, the two daughters negro and white and the aunt twelve miles away watching from her distance as the two daughters watched from theirs the old demon, the ancient varicose and despairing Faustus fling his final main now with the Creditor’s hand already on his shoulder, running his little country store now for his bread and meat, haggling tediously over nickels and dimes with rapacious and poverty-stricken whites and negroes, who at one time could have galloped for ten miles in any direction without crossing his own boundary, using out of his meagre stock the cheap ribbons and beads and the stale violently-colored candy with which even an old man can seduce a fifteen-year-old country girl, to ruin the granddaughter o f his partner, this Jones-this gangling malaria-ridden white man whom he had given permission fourteen years ago to squat in the abandoned fishing camp with the year-old grandchild-Jones, partner porter and clerk who at the demon’s command removed with his own hand (and maybe delivered too) from the showcase the candy beads and ribbons, measured the very cloth from which Judith (who had not been bereaved and did not mourn) helped the granddaughter to fashion a dress to walk past the lounging men in, the side-looking and the tongues, until her increasing belly taught her embarrassment-or perhaps fear;-Jones who before ’61 had not even been allowed to approach the front of the house and who during the next four years got no nearer than the kitchen door and that only when he brought the game and fish and vegetables on which the seducer-to-be’s wife and daughter (and Clytie too, the one remaining servant, negro, the one who would forbid him to pass the kitchen door with what he brought) depended on to keep life in them, but who now entered the house itself on the (quite frequent now) afternoons when the demon would suddenly curse the store empty of customers and lock the door and repair to the rear and in the same tone in which he used to address his orderly or even his house servants when he had them (and in which he doubtless ordered Jones to fetch from the showcase the ribbons and beads and candy) direct Jones to fetch the jug, the two of them (and Jones even sitting now who in the old days, the old dead Sunday afternoons of monotonous peace which they spent beneath the scuppernong arbor in the back yard, the demon lying in the hammock while Jones squatted against a post, rising from time to time to pour for the demon from the demijohn and the bucket of spring water which he had fetched from the spring more than a mile away then squatting again, chortling and chuckling and saying `Sho, Mister Tawm’ each time the demon paused)-the two of them drinking turn and turn about from the jug and the demon not lying down now nor even sitting but reaching after the third or second drink that old man’s state of impotent and furious undefeat in which he would rise, swaying and plunging and shouting for his horse and pistols to ride single-handed into Washington and shoot Lincoln (a year or so too late here) and Sherman both, shouting, ‘Kill them! Shoot them down like the dogs they are!’ and Jones: ‘Sho, Kernel; sho now’ and catching him as he fell and commandeering the first passing wagon to take him to the house and carry him up the front steps and through the paintless formal door beneath its fanlight imported pane by pane from Europe which Judith held open for him to enter with no change, no alteration in that calm frozen face which she had worn for four years now, and on up the stairs and into the bedroom and put him to bed like a baby and then lie down himself on the floor beside the bed though not to sleep since before dawn the man on the bed would stir and groan and Jones would say, ‘flyer I am, Kernel. Hit’s all right. They aint whupped us yit, air they?’ this Jones who after the demon rode away with the regiment when the granddaughter was only eight years old would tell people that he ‘was lookin after Major’s place and niggers’ even before they had time to ask him why he was not with the troops and perhaps in time came to believe the lie himself, who was among the first to greet the demon when he returned, to meet him at the gate and say, ‘Well, Kernel, they kilt us but they aint whupped us yit, air they?’ who even worked, labored, sweat at the demon’s behest during that first furious period while the demon believed he could restore by sheer indomitable willing the Sutpen’s Hundred which he remembered and had lost, labored with no hope of pay or reward who must have seen long before the demon did (or would admit it) that the task was hopeless-blind Jones who apparently saw still in that furious lecherous wreck the old fine figure of the man who once galloped on the black thoroughbred about that domain two boundaries of which the eye could not see from any point.
I watched the entire police video on YouTube. It’s a good example why police should always have those body cams rolling during every encounter. The police are receiving some criticism for the way they handled this case. I’m not sure they deserve the criticism. They stopped this couple after someone called in and said a man was slapping a woman. But, Gabby told the officers that she had not been struck, and she had no obvious injuries. The boyfriend did have some minor scratches that made it appear that Gabby may have been the one that was physically violent. Gabby was clearly upset and mentally troubled. The boyfriend was cool and collected. Some people are saying that the police should have recognized that the girl was a victim and in danger. But, the physical evidence and statements from Gabby and the boyfriend don’t point to that in any strong way. The police are not mental health professionals. They do the best they can with the information provided to them and the training they have received. It should be noted that the police DID separate Gabby and her boyfriend after this roadside incident. They gave the van to Gabby. She could have left the boyfriend if she had wanted to. Gabby made the decision to rejoin with the boyfriend and continue on together. There is only so much the police can do in a situation like this. The police gave Gabby an opportunity to get away from the boyfriend, and she made the decision to stay. This incident happened about two weeks before Gabby stopped communicating with friends and family. I will say this. The police were extremely polite during this entire encounter. Gabby and the boyfriend also were well behaved, although Gabby was clearly upset. I found it odd that the police didn’t Immediately pat down Gabby and her boyfriend for weapons. But, maybe they don’t always pat people down in a situation like this.
The police handled this about as well as they possibly could. I was honestly impressed. What may have sunk this whole thing was that they couldn't get away from each other. Add in the stress of travel, maybe money was tight, etc. It's like a 200 sq ft disaster on wheels. Honestly all outcomes are possible here. Maybe foul play, maybe suicide, maybe a 3rd party. Who the hell knows. All I know is that the police deserve lots of credit for how they handled the situation.
You are saying that is what matters, not race. If that's the case, why aren't attractive black women who go missing getting attention? Unless you are saying that there are no attractive black women who go missing. I am merely pointing out the big hole in your logic
