Speaking Ill of The Dead

Why is it that only good people are murdered or die in tragic accidents?  You know what I mean -every time such a death occurs, friends, relatives and neighbours seem to be falling over themselves to tell the press that the victim was, well, basically a saint.  By all accounts they are loving husbands/wives and fathers/mothers, upstanding pillars of their local communities, good Samaritans always willing to help out those in need and the life and soul of any party.  I don't expect people to say 'He was a complete bastard and deserved it', but I'd appreciate a degree of realism.  After all, the reality is that many murder victims know their killers, the murder often being the consequence of domestic abuse of some kind, or the result of some falling out between criminal confederates.  Which isn't to say that many victims aren't perfectly innocent.  But I bet they weren't angels, either.

Anyway, I was set to thinking about this following a recent murder here in Crapchester.  As ever, the victim was eulogised by all and sundry.  Apparently he was a faultless individual.  The epitome of a perfect family man.  Except that I knew a bit about him - the bits about his criminal record.  OK, he was strictly small-time and hadn't been involved in anything which would ordinarily result in murder.  Nonetheless, it was at odds with the picture being painted by his friends and relatives.  I know that we're not meant to speak ill of the dead, but Hell, if we can't speak the truth about them without fear of being threatened with libel actions, then, when can we?  It's like all that business about how you shouldn't kick a man when he's down.  Why not?  It might be your only chance to stick one on some violent bullying bastard who has been making everyone's lives Hell.  But getting back to the victims of murders and such like - a little more honesty with regard to them would go a long way.  After all, you might not know this, but some real bastards and scumbags die as well as the saints.