Minneapolis’ 35th murder victim of this year so far was a guy not a lot different than me. 40something, kids, worked in the software racket, liked biking. Mark Loesch even lived in my old neighborhood, just a few blocks from where I lived way back when.
He was apparently beaten to death while out on a bike ride late last Friday night.
A local blogger and friend of Loesch’s remembers the victim:
I met him 12 years ago at an insurance company; I was a contractor, he was an employee. A manager casually mentioned to me that “this guy Mark really likes music, like you. You should go say hi”. So I dropped by, and we hit it off immediately: the awesome production skills of Trevor Horn was our first conversation.We were work pals for a while, but worked on very different projects, and then he went off to something new. A few months later, he called me up with a fascinating new opportunity: He was part of a team moving a Prescription Benefits company from Detroit to the Twin Cities, and they needed to build a team FAST: Did I want to help?
So I joined him, and we worked very closely, at which point he invited me over for a party… so Pamela and I showed up. One week early! But he invited us in, and we had a great time for hours… maybe more fun than the “real party”… at least I remember our pre-party more. We carpooled for a year, and grew very close. He notoriously mixed me the “killer” eighth martini at my 30th birthday bash. I of course blamed it on him making it with Gin… not the obvious issue of it being the EIGHTH.
With all the carnage in Minneapolis, it’s important to remember that there’s a story behind every death. Not all of them are as sympathic, on the surface, as Mr. Loesch’s, but behind even the most hardened banger or the most far-gone junkie there’s a father, a little sister or someone who loses a huge chunk of themselves.
Cross-posted at Shot in the Dark. Comments are welcome there.
