Athena Strand memorial. FILE | WCMESSENGER
Tanner Horner and his capital murder trial have affected me over the last three weeks.
Horner’s dark and disgusting world has seeped into mine, with details from his death penalty trial magnifying the permanent stain he left on Wise County.
I doubt that I’m alone.
Every night since the trial started, I’ve come home and hugged my daughter with urgency. It’s the most important thing that I will do all day.
And while Horner’s actions have filled me with rage, I know, deep down, that what I’m really feeling is fear.
I’m scared because I can see my little girl in Athena Strand’s face.
And I’m scared I might not have recognized the monster hiding behind his.
Athena Strand
Ever since the start of the trial, that fear has told me to retreat — to be hostile and harsh, to stop trusting people and hide my family in the safety of our home.
But as I’ve wrestled with that instinct, I’m realizing I should resist it. Because if we all pull back and isolate ourselves, who does it honor: Athena, or the man who murdered her?
As I’ve learned over the last three-plus years, Athena was a fierce friend. She was a free spirit and she loved playing outside. Her favorite color was pink, and she was brave. One thing we’ve heard during this trial was that Athena stood up to bullies until her final breath.
While Athena’s death has been the focus of the trial, her life has not been forgotten.
Her big colorful bows follow her mom where she goes. And for years now, Wise County and communities beyond have found ways to pay tribute to her life and support the family’s pursuit of justice.
You can see it in the pink — glowing from porch lights and wrapped around trees. In the BoBo Crossing memorial, covered in flowers and ribbons. In hundreds of profile pictures replaced with her face. And in the laws passed in the wake of her death.
But if we really want to honor Athena’s life, maybe we, as a community, can do more.
Several homes around Wise County have been decorated with pink lights in honor of Athena Strand after the death penalty trial for her murderer began earlier this month. COURTESY
Let’s start by being a good friend, like Athena, and being good neighbors.
Look up from your phone. Make eye contact. Wave. Say hello. Check in.
Get to know the people who live around you, and the kids who belong there. Let them know you see them, that you care, and that your neighbors can come to your door when they need help.
And whenever something does feel off, don’t ignore it and go back to your routine. Trust that instinct, look out for vulnerable kids and people. Listen to that small voice that tells you something isn’t right, or that vehicle feels sketchy.
Step in, show up and embrace the relief of potentially being wrong.
It’s OK to awkwardly interrupt if someone is lingering too close to kids. It could be as simple as a friendly hello and approaching with a few questions, like: “Everything OK?” “Can I help you?” “Y’all good?”
If interjecting feels uncomfortable, just remember to be courageous, like Athena.
And also, let’s go play outside, like Athena.
Occupy the yards, sidewalks and playgrounds of your community. Let your kids run around and climb trees. Drag out the lawn chairs. Fire up the grill out front. Talk to people as you go on walks.
Take up space in your neighborhood. It is your home. Own it.
When we do, the blind spots shrink.
And in turn, the community gets stronger. Good people outnumber the evil ones in this world. We have power, too.
I bet any would-be predators would be scared by the sight of active families, engaged neighbors and moms and dads who are ready to fight — not just for their own kids — but for someone else’s.
Maybe that’s how we all can honor Athena and carry her legacy forward.
Not by living in fear.
By living a little more like she did.
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