They killed a mountain lion in Connecticut. I don't know why: because it didn't belong there, because it ate a pet, menaced a grandfather, held the town in it's metaphorical carnivorous jaws - or just because they could.
We have the technology now to find out how the mountain lion came to be in Connecticut, a place where mountain lions were pushed out by human encroachment ( if they were ever even there) a hundred years ago or more.
DNA evidence showed that the cat was from the Black Hills of South Dakota - a sacred place to the Plains Indians - two thousand miles distant.
That mountain lion walked two thousand miles only to be shot by strangers. What was it looking for? Elbow room? Maybe a place without fences or Wi-Fi?
Or was it a messenger from a holy place carrying a warning? What happens when the sacred meets the profane? What comes to pass when a spirit endures two thousand miles of Wal-Marts and Burger Kings?
"Honey, there's a sacred being tipping over the trash cans on the patio. Better call Spirit Animal Control"