In the aftermath of the slash-ridden removal of the Reverend Doctor Sarah from this earthly world, due horror came upon the citizens.
The first day of her disappearance was a bright and sunny delight, remarkable for its absence of typical summer haze, but disrupted by the unusual and numerous reports on car radios about the city. The discovery of the beloved minister's abduction initially came from signs in the church courtyard which were not divulged to the public. Her automobile (donated by a local dealer ((mentioned by name in the reports)) for her well-reported good deeds) was duly described and the license plate number repeated often. The off-duty contingent of all public services was woken from sleep and dispatched. Everyone listening to the radio reports was commandeered to take part in the search; phone calls buzzed between morningchore households, and later, in the evening, after the search alerts had been called off but no news officially released, lawnmowers were shut down for conversations between neighbors on driveways, some for the first time. Friendships were made.
The 5 o clock television broadcasts carried suspicious overtones in that nothing was revealed other than the same skeletal facts that had been repeated all day--but the authorities were no longer appealing for help. Some felt the beginnings of a coverup. Then, at the end of the broadcast, on one channel only, there was the sudden appearance of a flushed reporter with a word on the tragedy.
Kelly stood clutching the microphone, her hair slightly misplaced but still stiff, as if tousled and then sprayed that way, and announced a break in the case; the Reverend Sarah had been found, and the word "homicide" now applied to the situation. A moment of visible anguish followed. Now here is Dan Rather with the national news, and our reporter will be back in thirty minutes for an exclusive interview with the man who amazingly located the Reverend's remains.
Relief, shock and anger rolled across the city and supper was eaten. In upper city governing echelons the groundwork for a committee was being laid. An impassioned editorial argued some public ediface would have to be named (or re-named) for the fallen figure.