Last year, my friend Beth Butler, a Detective with the Santa Cruz Police Department, along with her partner, were shot and killed by Jeremy Goulet when they came to his home to question him about a sexual assault. Goulet was a discharged Army pilot who had served two years for gun crimes.

As the one year anniversary of Beth’s killing approaches, I’ve tried to figure out how to mark her death. Options I’ve considered:

1. I could write an angry, investigative article about how her killer should have been caught by federal background checks. But it’s been done, and the answer is: loopholes and faulty background check laws. “But because neither crime was punishable by more than a year by itself, neither prohibited him from owning a gun.” If the military had given him a dishonorable discharge or his father had reported that he was a danger to himself and others, he wouldn’t have been able to legally purchase a gun.
2. I could go visit my Senators again, like I did last year. But they vote for and even sponsor the legislation that repeatedly gets watered down or fought by politicians in the pocket of the gun lobby.
3. I could give yet more money to fight the gun lobby.
4. I could—but refuse to—unfriend pro-gun friends and family on Facebook on the off chance that I might be able to have a meaningful conversation with them about guns. I bring it up with family members who I know feel differently than I do: I want to understand and make this conversation meaningful and productive.
5. I could make scones (using Beth’s recipe—she made great scones) for the cops at the local precinct, who’ve had a rough year with crimes involving weapons. I could write them a letter about Beth and tell them I hope tighter gun laws make their jobs less dangerous.
6. I could offer to volunteer at the next Brooklyn gun buyback event.
7. I could write a letter to Beth’s husband telling her and her kids how often I think of her.
8. I could donate to our university to help establish a scholarship for a student who stays in the community, like Beth did, to do community outreach.
9. I could arrange to meet up with our mutual friend who is also on the East Coast to honor her memory.
10. I could and can drag my son, daughter and reluctant husband onto the dance floor every chance we get.
11. I could make scones, and cry. Again.

None of these things will bring Beth back.

Beth made a commitment to make the world a better, fairer and sweeter place.

I have jury duty. So what I will do for sure in honor of Beth is go gladly to jury duty. I will do my best to be a fair and just juror, and I will learn as much as possible about the nice people with whom I’m serving. If I have time, I’ll bring scones to my fellow jurors and the officers of the Court.

For right now that’s the best I can do to honor Beth’s memory.