I’ve been thinking a lot about Thomas Junta lately.
He’s the hockey dad who was recently convicted of beating another hockey dad to death in full view of a rink full of horrified kids, including his own and that of his victim, Michael Costin.
Mr. Junta is a man that some reporters described as “hulking,” a 270-pound truck driver with a jutting jaw and, by all accounts, a serious anger-management problem. Is anyone out there surprised to hear that this so-called “gentle giant” had a record of arrests for previous assaults? That Junta’s own wife had sought a restraining order after he struck her in front of their kids?
Mr. Junta described the altercation that led to Mr. Costin’s death as “a stupid guy thing” that simply got out of hand. His attorney characterized Junta’s actions as self-defense. The prosecution scoffed at this description, noting the testimony of witnesses that placed Mr. Junta at the end of the fight sitting atop Mr. Costin’s chest, slamming his opponent’s head against the concrete rink floor, while bystanders screamed at him to stop.
How does a shouting match escalate into violence and death? How could anyone lose control that completely over something so trivial?
I was mulling this over as I drove home the other day. It was snowing and it looked like it was going to be a fairly substantial accumulation. The wind whipped huge white flakes around my windshield. I was more than a little anxious; our house is at the top of a continuous two-mile incline that rapidly becomes too slick to negotiate in icy weather.
Continued…
