Derbyshire's first street shooting

Derby, the place I have always been so proud of, the city I have defended to the hilt, shopped, worked and played in, has suddenly been plunged into the mean streets league in my eyes.
The death of a 15-year-old, gunned down in Caxton Street, brought a tear to this mother’s eye and, I am sure many more parents, shocked by the savage act. Like me, a thought for their own children’s future safety may have flitted through their minds, too.
As for the youngster’s family and friends, their pain must be unbearable. How I feel for them.
I feel for Derby as a whole, too. This incident sets a new crime low for the city.
No longer can I boast that I could never bring my children up in a place like London because of the gang warfare and brutal murders among young people.
Liverpool, another place often in the news for gun crime, always felt a million miles away from Derby’s leafy streets.
When 11-year-old Rhys Jones, was shot in Croxteth on his way home from football practice, dying in his mother’s arms, I was horrified but comforted myself with the fact that it would never happen in Derby.
Of course I was being naive. But sometimes the only way to save your sanity is to push the truth to the dark recesses of your mind.
I know Derby has gangs, I know it will also have people without reason, conscience or the ability to conquer violent tendencies. No place is immune from that.
But this killing, this mindless act is so awful for us. It comes on top of another dreadful child-related news story that made my heart bleed this week. A 17-month-old boy, seen some 60 times by the authorities, died after enduring eight months of unimaginable torture.
The toddler suffered 50 injuries including a broken back, eight fractured ribs and ripped fingernails. His own mother and two men caused the death.
While a witch-hunt to blame the authorities goes on, I can only think about the depths of evil displayed by the perpetrators.
They appear to be devoid of human kindness or basic standards of decency, not to mention intelligence. If they were incapable of offering love, care and support to a child, they should have handed him over to people who could.
Like every sane parent out there, I am left in aching despair that anyone is capable of causing such dire harm to a tot too young to do anything other than cry for help – in this case only heard by those poised to snuff out his life.
And this all comes in a week when on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month we stopped what we were doing to honour the war dead on Armistice Day.
Two minutes to think about all the people, so often young men with their whole lives ahead of them, taken from us by a bomb or gun shot.
Whenever I hear the poignant notes of The Last Post I recall my history teacher at school crying as she told us about the misery endured by so many in the First World War trenches.
Some 20 million people died in the 1914-18 war, a whole generation lost.
It was regarded as the cull of the innocent. Unfortunately the cull of the innocent is still going on, but, mindlessly, without a call to arms being necessary.
Today’s cull is taking place in our own streets and behind closed doors.
In recent months, we’ve watched the world plunged into financial chaos, with all thoughts turned to rescuing our economy.
Perhaps, with equal passion and determination, all thoughts should be turned to restoring basic standards of human decency in every strata of society.
Or is that simply asking too much?
For all our sakes, I hope not.