It is the hero's welcome that rankles: The image of convicted bomber Abdel Baset al-Megrahi with his arm in the air, waving to a throng of Libyans who greeted him at the airport last week and apparently adore him mostly because he killed Western innocents.
Al-Megrahi was convicted of the 1988 Lockerbie plane bombing that killed 270 people, 189 of them Americans. Most of those were college students returning home just before Christmas from a study trip abroad.
Scottish Justice Secretary Kenny MacAskill decided to release al-Megrahi, the only person convicted of the terrorist attack, because al-Megrahi is reportedly in the terminal stages of cancer. It is, MacAskill decided, the compassionate thing to do.
Last week, the killer went home a hero.
A lot of us who would probably describe ourselves as basically kind people, I think, struggle when concepts of compassion butt up against basic ideas of what justice is — or should be. This is one of those moments.
Boo-hoo was my reaction when I heard al-Megrahi was dying. Fury followed at the idea that he was to be released after serving only eight years for mass murder.
I wonder what those young people could have accomplished with eight years they didn't get, much less their own natural life spans. Many would have had children in that time. They'd have launched careers and formed friendships and built human bridges of all sorts.
I wonder if they would have liked to have died at home, surrounded by their loved ones at the end of their natural lives, however long those lives should prove to be.
The decision to release him wouldn't have been quite so onerous had the judge said he didn't see why Scottish taxpayers should bear the expense to treat and comfort the man. Or had he ordered him into a treatment facility in Scotland. I think compassion could also have been served adequately by seeing that he received palliative care and time with his family. I would not have begrudged those acts of mercy.
And yet …
There's still a tiny niggling doubt that the right man was convicted. Some Brits and at least one of the students' parents believe he was innocent of the charge — an assertion al-Megrahi has maintained consistently. He had been in the process of appealing his conviction before his release was finalized.
That question of guilt does complicate things a little. Worse than being confined is dying in prison because of something you didn't do.
There's no question Libya played a role in the terrorist attack; the government admitted it and even paid some compensation as part of its journey back into a relationship with the West.
What I struggle with is the balance of mercy and justice. I wish there were a formula to get it right. And I am somewhat surprised to find that I lean, at least in this case, toward justice far more than I do mercy: I was not bothered by the fact that someone convicted of killing 270 people was going to die in prison.
That bomb showed no mercy for the victims, or even casual interest in who they were or the nuances of their lives. Whoever blew that plane up over Lockerbie snuffed out so much potential and broke so many hearts in an action that was as cold and calculated as any in history.
So, yes, it bothers me a lot that the hero's greeting didn't look like compassionate well-wishes for a dying man. It looked like Libya threw a party for terrorism, and even public officials showed up to dance.
Deseret News staff writer Lois M. Collins may be reached by e-mail at lois@desnews.com. Follow her on Twitter at loisco.