Everyone's worst nightmare plays out tragically in N.Y.

To the best of my knowledge, I never met Mary Elizabeth Whitaker.

Never heard her play the violin. Never shook her hand. Never laid eyes on her during her 61 years on this earth -- unless it was in passing years ago when her parents ran Whitaker Funeral Home where Bittles and Hurt stands today.

But over the past week, I've begun to feel as though I must have known her for years.

While I've been forced to sift through the tragic elements of her death in New York State as one of the parts of my job that often can make it difficult, I've simultaneously been exposed to the aspects of a life well lived. A life of caring, goodness and grace.

What's the old phrase? "The good, they die young ...."

Too young. Too often. Too tragic.

Among my friends and acquaintances who grew up with Mary or those who knew her as an adult, none describe her in anything but glowing terms. Comments like "just a wonderful, talented person" prevail.

Those same friends' reaction in recent days has been universal outrage and disbelief at Mary's fate.

"A nightmare while we are awake," one close friend assures. "Our hearts just ache."

"The nightmare continues," another longtime friend of Mary's says in an email as more facts continue to emerge about the horrific case.

"It's amazing how this murder of sweet Mary Whitaker continues to change and get worse by day," another writes.

"Tragic and numbing," adds another email.

The irony that today's Banner Graphic front page includes not only the tragic details of how Mary Whitaker died but also a piece on the renovation of Miller School being converted into apartments was not lost on one of her best friends and Greencastle High School classmates who spotted the stories online.

"Our (group of friends in the) Class of 1971 all attended Miller School," Mindy Matthews, a Washington Street neighbor and close friend of Mary, confided Tuesday. "I have all of our class photos. Mary and I walked to school together. We were there as President Kennedy was shot, and as the Beatles arrived on American shores."

All Norman Rockwell-like, all-American moments that in no way could have forecast such a tragic end.

But even without knowing Mary Whitaker or her family or friends, you understand the terrifying part of all this is the randomness at which it occurred.

The two suspects -- homeless men from nearby Erie, Pa. -- didn't stalk Mary. Didn't see her spending big bucks somewhere and decide to grab and go. Didn't follow her home from the ATM.

They literally just walked up to her modest ranch-style summer home along a quiet country road and knocked on the door. They might as well have said, "Hey, let's rob this house."

While that sad scenario played out in rural New York State, it could have easily been anywhere in Indiana. It could have been your house. Or mine.

The perpetrators pulled the old "I'm out of gas" ploy to get her to open her door to them, and when she let her guard down for a half-second, it cost Mary her life.

What is unspeakably appalling in all that is a person with a heart of gold was done in by her own kindness.

Her biggest mistake? Being compelled to help a stranger banging on her door at 7 o'clock in the morning.

It's everyone's nightmare. Proof that you're not even safe in the sanctity of your own home.

No, I really never knew Mary Whitaker. But now I know her all too well ...

(for more information on the Mary Whitaker story, please read Eric Bernsee's news story HERE )