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Excluding the victim, the killer, and three sand crabs scurrying for the safety of their holes, the first
homicide failed to attract attention.
In thinking back on this particular homicide, I’ve often wondered when the victim, an obviously unwilling
participant, sensed his impending death. Could it have been the moment the killer pressed the man’s face
into seawater flowing across the sand at high tide—or maybe not until saltwater rushed into his lungs as he
struggled for air? Although even then the man may have drawn on an inner strength and refused to accept
the inevitable. If so, I wonder when recognition of his fate finally burst through the fear consuming him?
Maybe as a rip current swept him out to sea, or maybe not until he witnessed the open maw of a ravenous
carnivore, a creature straight from the pen of Melville, gliding towards him.
Since the first homicide victim is beyond answering, I guess we’ll never know.
Seven days later, Monday, February 5th, 1990, at two-fifteen in the morning, the first homicide victim, or what
remained of him after sea creatures had feasted for a week, bobbed to the surface and floated ashore at
high tide.
The incoming tide positioned the lifeless body north of the Sixth Street South crossover, mere feet from
the spot where he had uttered his failed pleas for mercy and whispered his final prayers for salvation. The
Sixth Street South crossover is one of nearly four-dozen wooden walkways allowing Cocoa Beach residents
and tourists to traverse the dunes without damaging the natural sand structures so important to the health
of the beach.
And why exactly did the first homicide victim return to the scene of his execution?
It’s a question I’ve asked myself many times—but a question I’ve never been able to answer with any degree
of certainty.
Query local residents and they’ll tell you that the prevailing winds and the Atlantic Ocean currents off
Cocoa Beach refuse to follow predictable patterns. At times the currents flow north. Other times south. And
still there are times the surf resembles a slippery saltwater floor filled with square dancers. Allemande left,
allemande right, swing your partner, hold her tight, circle to the left, circle to the right, do-si-dos until broad
daylight.
So I suppose any rational or logical person would conclude that Cocoa Beach’s unpredictable winds and
current flows allowed the first homicide victim to revisit the scene of his death.
But what of a person driven to a greater extent by the beliefs of his soul rather than his intellect? Such an
individual would likely contend that a force, not of nature but of the universe, orchestrated the victim’s
revisit—and for a specific reason.
Which argument might carry the day?
Similar to many other arguments across our polarized land, it depends on your personal beliefs.
And the first homicide victim?
What might he have believed?
Being quite dead—I can’t imagine he cared either way.


O nature's noblest gift -- my grey goose-quill! Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will, Torn from thy parent bird to form a pen, That mighty instrument of little men! Lord Byron (1788-1824)
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