1) Murder, of any kind, is an almost unimaginably horrible thing to happen to you or anyone you know.
2) Being randomly murdered by a stranger in your own home is among the most horrible subsets of murder to happen to you or anyone you know.
3) When this incredibly horrible and rare thing happens to someone you know, it’s understandable to jump to conclusions about the appalling state of society, and use them to justify whatever your own personal cause may be.
4) It’s in rather poor taste, however, for someone who doesn’t know the victim to use said grief-sticken exhortations as a peg for their own personal conspiracy theories. Especially ill-informed xenophobic ones.
5) It’s entirely daft in such a situation to claim that such things never happened before Labour’s gun laws, no matter how much of an arse you think David Blunkett is.
Tangentially, I’m glad my friends and I rejected the option of renting the flat we saw 100 metres from the murder site in Chelsea and picked Finsbury Park instead, otherwise we’d’ve been greeted by police tape and fear-of-being-murdered-in-our-beds within two weeks of moving in [*].
Still more tangentially, found on a related Google search – Ian Huntley was innocent, and it was the Americans wot done it. People are strange.
[*] The irony here may be lost on people who don’t know about the relative perceived niceness of the two areas.