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I'm not ok with it. Not any of it. I had just returned to the newsroom last night to file a quick story before heading home when I got the call: MVA with injuries and entrapment in Farmington. No problem, I thought. I'll dash out and snap a few photos, write a quick summary and be on my way. That's not how it played out. On this night, the deserted country crossroad — usually blanketed in darkness — was lit up like Times Square. Flashing emergency lights from hastily parked trucks were harsh and glaring — they made my eyes burn and my heart beat harder. As pulled over and got out of my van, I knew instantly that this one was going to be different. The rain streamed down and I could see portable spotlights pooling light over two mangled vehicles conjoined in a nearby field. Dozens of first responders circled the mess, forming a barrier. They weren't working, they were waiting — and barely talking. Not a good sign, ever. I paced back and forth slowly for over an hour, ...