There has to be blame. There has to be a reason. There has to be a way to prevent it from ever, ever happening again.

Because we're human, we want those statements to be true. And sadly, because we're human, they are all unavoidably false.

Davidson College math professor Robert Whitton, by virtually every account a wonderful man with a passion for teaching and the ability to enjoy life and enhance the lives of all those around him, was an accident victim last Thursday night. Ricky Stacks, by all accounts a decent, caring family man routinely going about his daily life, was also a victim.

The two lives forever intertwined on a dark, dreary, wet evening in Davidson, an ironically idyllic setting for a tragedy.

Whitton, a beloved professor with long-time ties to Davidson and a tradition of serving chicken dinners to his students at least once a semester, was struck by Ricky Stacks' car a little after 8 p.m. last Thursday as Whitton was crossing Davidson-Concord Road near the Davidson campus.

I was there. Just two cars behind Stacks. I didn't see the accident, only the immediate aftermath. Suddenly brake lights, taillights and emergency flashers bounced red glares off the wet pavement and shadows darted between headlights. I pulled around with flashers blinking, parked and saw three people already attending to the victim. I directed traffic the best I could and absorbed the scene as much as possible while keeping the steady stream of traffic moving.

Emergency calls had already been made and two people knelt down to determine what they could about Whitton's condition. He was unresponsive, but the gentle Samaritans talked to him and comforted him the best they could. One lady held an umbrella over his head to protect him from the rain.

Stacks was understandably frantic. He had tears in his eyes as he tried to help attend to Whitton and he kept apologizing to no one in particular and repeating that he "never saw him. I just never saw him."

And when the scene, surreal enough already considering Davidson's peaceful surroundings, seemed more nightmare than real life, another factor emerged. In between the tears and the constant questions about Whitton's condition, Stacks kept running back to his car trying to calm the curious, confused and crying child buckled into the back seat.

Blame is a natural, human response. It's how we cope with disaster. It's how we convince ourselves that we, not outside factors, have control over our lives. It's how we explain away events that don't otherwise make sense. It's how we delude ourselves into believing if we make changes, bad things will stop. It's how, very simply, we survive. And in this case, it didn't take long to emerge.

Finger pointing began almost immediately on various social networks. The driver, of course, has received the brunt of the attacks, but transportation planners and town officials have also been targeted. Some have placed the ultimate responsibility on the pedestrian. Some of the suggested fixes may have moderate merit, but on that night, at that time, in those conditions — and despite the fact that the thought of it fuels our deepest fears — this accident was, in all practical applications, unavoidable.

The crosswalk, shadowy in broad daylight and virtually invisible in the rain-glistened gloom of a black-sky drizzle, is located just beyond a curve. There's a bright yellow crosswalk sign announcing its presence, but the signs and crosswalks are commonplace along the road and, being so frequently warned, even the most cautious commuter can become immune to potential consequences. We may never know why Whitton didn't see Stacks' approaching car, or why Stacks didn't notice Whitton in time to stop. The darkness and rain, undoubtedly, contributed, but the confluence of infinite factors that put Whitton and Stacks in the same location at the same time is the thing that confounds us, and frightens us when we realize there is absolutely no way to protect ourselves from factors we can't control.

Two or three seconds either way, nothing happens and life goes on. Instead, we pray for the professor and his family, and we empathize with the driver and his family. We wish without reservation that the accident never happened and we move ahead, forever burdened with the knowledge that we're human, prone to make mistakes, programmed to find fault and nevertheless, powerless to prevent accidents.