We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
I'm torn between satisfaction at him just being dead, the ideal solution (though I would prefer he suffer the wounds of his victims first), versus gaining the value of any intelligence he might offer.
Sounds like a one off to me, him and his brother, though who knows. But we can well guess the ultimate locus of inspiration nonetheless.