Not only have I known a handful of people who have been murdered, in two cases I also knew the murderers.
Yes, two.
One was one of the subjects in a long-term research project for which I was a senior research associate.
As far as we can tell, he was in a slightly psychotic state at a nightclub, and walked up to a group of guys (possibly gang members) talking in a way that was very indicative of that slightly psychotic state. One of the guys shot him in the face.
The other was someone who attended my college, and who was one of the crowd of party people I with whom I hung out. A couple of years after graduation, he was shot and killed in a drive-by shooting in the area of New York that people refer to as Spanish Harlem (he grew up there).
Yes, one of my high school classmates was murdered by another. They made a movie out of it. I knew both of them, but neither very well.
I also saw a man shot by a cop last summer.
It takes over your brain for a while, and then gradually it fades. Trying not to think about it only makes it last longer - you have to let yourself work through it. Telling someone about it helps.
That’s going a bit to far in competing for business, especially in the occulist field.
I’ve known both a handful of murder victims (mostly over drugs or stolen property), and two or three genuine murderers. (About five times that number if I actually believed all of the lying scumbags I worked with in kitchens, but most of them were clearly just boasting of deeds undone as a way of one-upping each other.) I also knew a parent whose teenage child was involved in a conspiracy resulting in the murder of a classmate. That was awkward; I found out that Hallmark doesn’t make a “Sorry your kid is a murderer, going away for life,” card.
I’ve also known a few people who were quite legitimately and legally dispatched which in the progress of committing a crime (armed robbery, burglary, attempted rape) and several who were paid by Uncle Sam to go travel the world, meet interesting people, and send their souls to hell. Neither of these categories is murder in the legal or (arguably) moral definition, but as my edged weapons instructor once said to me, “Some people are put on this Earth to serve as an example to others by leaving it in the most violent manner possible, and others are put here to remove them. You’d do well to stay clear of both types.”
Stranger
Actually, telling someone about it–sharing it with someone else who shares your moral views and will empathize with you–is a critical step of processing violent events. In military and peace officer circles this is called “debriefing” and combat psychologists are discovering that doing this as soon as possible after the event is vital to attenuating the long-term psychological trauma that can result from observing or being party to a violent encounter. (If not done within a short period of time–preferably starting within a few minutes of the encounter–the person will start to close off the trauma and will be resistant to discussing it at the necessary length and unrestrained emotion to process the event.)
Stranger
The first boy I ever kissed was shot outside a convenience store and bled to death before rescue could get there. He was 19 (we were in 7th grade when we kissed in the back seat of the bus).
No, I haven’t known anyone who was murdered. I hope that it stays that way!
I read that as “occultist” maybe I need my eyes examining…wait maybe not!
One of my sister’s best friends was stabbed to death by a total stranger in a “frenzied attack” this year. She was walking her dog in a park in the middle of the day, and a crazed guy leaped out of the bushes and killed her. Fucking horrible; she was a sweetheart, and had overcome cerebral palsy and other minor disabilities to live a full life, and was only recently married, and very happily too. Fuck. 
In the 90s, a couple I knew in Hong Kong were kidnapped and murdered by Khmer Rouge bandits.
The son of a friend of the family. Guy had struggled with alcoholism his entire adult life, and had been homeless a couple of times. For a few years, he’d been pulling himself together and staying sober, but he fell off the wagon hard, and lost his house. He was sleeping in Golden Gate Park, in a sleeping bag, when someone stabbed him to death. They never found the murderer, who may have gone on to kill another half dozen or so homeless in San Francisco.
Clarification: “couple I knew in Hong Kong were kidnapped and murdered by Khmer Rouge bandits after they moved to Cambodia.”
I was in the same high school class as Rebecca Shaeffer. I did not know her well, but I remember that, shortly before Rebecca was killed, she and I both attended a wedding of a classmate and mutual friend. I remember introducing myself to her at the wedding, and her saying “of course I remember you.” Not long after that she was killed and I wound up going to her funeral. So sad.
A family friend and neighborhood fixture was murdered last summer. He’d been a good friend of my parents;, but had been in a motorcycle accident years ago and ended up mentally impaired. Now and then we’d see him around, as he lived on and off the streets. Everyone always had a kind word and maybe a few bucks to give to him- everyone that knew him felt so terrible about the accident. He was a sweet guy, and very well liked.
Last July he left a bar late at night, and went to get a cup of coffee at a convenience store. Some neighborhood kids beat him up. Then they returned with a BB gun, and shot him multiple times in the face, leaving him to die.
Such a sad story.
A BB gun? I thought those things barely penetrated the skin.
My parents’ local grocer was shot and bled to death the day before Christmas. Presumably the killer wanted to steal the day’s takings, but he had managed to drop them in the money chute before he got shot. The police never caught the murderer but it was assumed that he was a local young man (I knew him) who had a drug problem and later committed suicide.
A friend of mine was stabbed to death in his home by a burglar.
I wish I had some advice for you, but I don’t.
I miss my friend. I haven’t found any sense at all in it. It’s just sad. He was a nice guy.
Six years ago my cousin’s son, J, slit his girlfriend’s throat, then slashed his own wrists, as their two-year-old slept in the next room. The police showed up too late to save the girl, but J was still conscious; he went after them with the knife (he was high on meth). The cops had to beat him so severely that by the time he got to the hospital he was brain-dead. My cousin and his ex-wife had to make the decision to pull the plug. J was 22 years old.
A few years before that my brother’s best friend’s older brother, C, offered a transient a ride, and once said transient was in the vehicle she stabbed C through the heart - for no reason the police could ever figure out. It was totally random, they’d never met before that.
A co-worker, a great guy, picked up a soldier hitchhiking by the freeway near the military base, and was later found dead, stuffed in the trunk. A girl I knew from my daughter’s middle school three years ago was murdered last year by a boyfriend/gang member high on drugs and apparently psychotic. He was pissed off at her for throwing up in his car after he got her drunk. An ex-boyfriend of my sister’s was murdered, along with his mother, by his crazy dad. At least in all these cases, the killer was put away. Again, the killings make no sense, and the pain stays with you.
Four people I’ve known have been killed in terrorist attacks. Three of them were in uniform at the time, so I suppose it shouldn’t count, although the cute redheaded girl I used to hike with in high school was killed on a cvillian bus on her way home.
The fourth was Yitzak Dori of Kibbutz Metzer,who I knew well from when I lived there a decade earlier. Itzik was the first to respond to the attack, and was shot by the gunman as he was getting out of his car, pistol in hand.
I knew a drug dealer in Chicago who was murdered. Don’t know the details, but he’s one of the reasons I know there is so much grayness in the world between right and wrong. There was no place for him in the work world, and he was trying to take care of his daughter. Even when he was poisoning our own community, he would always stop by to ask my grandmother how she was doing. I’m sure I know some other people who got murdered too but I can’t think of any right now.
I’ve known multiple people who killed someone though. One got out of jail for killing the guy who was sleeping with his wife. One of the nicest guys I have ever met.
Some distant cousin/relative of mine killed his wife with a baseball bat. He had weird personality weirdness before we all knew about this. At the one time I ever met him, he had me set his digital watch for him and didn’t even say thank you to me. He was a successful dentist and for christmas bought his mother a used black and white, tiny little tv. This was in around 2002 for perspective.
Another guy I went to kindergarten with killed an old lady during a break-in to try and get cash after she won a few thousand in the lottery. (Him and his buddies thought she won millions, and even if she did why would she keep it in CASH IN THE HOUSE?)
Some of my relatives might or might not have killed someone in their gang days, I don’t know for sure and don’t want to.