THE aftermath can take on strange shapes. So it is that following the murders of Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman, a columnist on a Scottish newspaper found himself sacked, while parents in Reading announced they were going to have a tracker implant fitted to their 11-year-old daughter.

John MacLeod, seemingly the stiffer-backed sort of columnist, blamed the girls' parents for their deaths. In his column he took a line which had not occurred to many commentators, observing that: "Had the parents of Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman kept the Lord's Day, their daughters would still be alive." He expanded his thesis, saying that the children should "have spent the day at rest or the private and public worship of God".

Mr MacLeod was described in one newspaper as a "Presbyterian fundamentalist", which doesn't sound like a nice place to be. It is not unusual, of course, for those of a strict religious bent to go about being unbending while sporting a Bible-black frown.

For all that, and accepting that Mr MacLeod wrote something crass and unthinking, it was possible, as a fellow peddler of random thoughts on life, to feel some sympathy for his plight. The Glasgow-based Herald newspaper accepted the column and even promoted it on its front page. Following complaints from readers, the newspaper's faith in its columnist plummeted and he was sacked.

While Mr MacLeod's views were clearly unpalatable to many people - this columnist included - his sudden fall illustrates something about how it doesn't pay to step out of line from what is the accepted mood of the moment.

National, flower-decked mourning like that which greeted the Soham murders is generally dated to the death of Diana, Princess of Wales. The countrywide gloom that attended Diana's death was recently described by James Thomas, of Cardiff University, as "grief without pain".

Many of those who grieved for Holly and Jessica were almost certainly affected by the same condition - for true grief can only belong to the parents and others who knew and loved the girls.

It is odd that such unity is so often found through sorrow and not joy. The death of Diana, the recent murders, the killing of Sarah Payne - all of these have seen national outpourings of distress. In pursuit of this thesis, I tried to think of happy occasions that have had a similar effect. The most obvious recent example I could come up with - and how it pains a republican-minded sitter on the sidelines to say so - was the Golden Jubilee. The Queen's celebrations went on a bit but seemed to bring pleasure to many.

The Commonwealth Games in Manchester were a great athletic gathering that ignited a city, and spread much enjoyment throughout the country, so I think the Games will do too. Sporting occasions often don't count, as noisy tribal loyalties get in the way of a general sense of well-being.

Sadly, tragedy is more often a unifier, uniting through shared distress, although it is hard to say whether the effects last beyond the long and terrible moment.

Wendy and Paul Duval, in common with parents everywhere, thought of their own after hearing the terrible news. Unlike most parents, they were spurred to extraordinary action, deciding to have their daughter, Danielle, fitted with a microchip so that her movements could be traced if she were abducted.

This seems extreme, a sci-fi distraction that may not address the real problems. Teaching children about danger would be more useful than having them electronically tagged, which is of untested benefit. Also, more children are harmed or abused in their own homes than by strangers. Not a palatable thought, but true.

Updated: 11:04 Thursday, September 05, 2002