Recently one of my very best friends from high school died unexpectedly at 48 years old. This was a person I had seen multiple times in the past decade and we still considered each other to be like brothers. On the day of his death, I heard about it third hand. We all grew up in a very small town and we used to joke that before something happened it could already be reported on the other side of town. Every person that lived there knows that nothing stays a secret for more than an hour. In fact, the person who called the person who called me found out two hours after the family, waited an hour or two to call someone (probably also wanting desperately to talk with someone who knew our friend), then the person she called obviously spoke with her at length and then maybe an hour later messaged me.

Well I was beyond devastated when I got the news. I honestly didn’t know how to express my feelings and I remembered a picture that someone had taken of “the three Rob(b)s” at a reunion a few years earlier (the three of us were really great friends—the kind you called best friends back in the day). I posted the pic on Facebook, along with some words about what I was feeling. I knew it had been the better part of the day and that no one who wasn’t direct family were friends and could see my page. It was my way of dealing with my grief in the moment. I also knew that many of my friends who had moved away from the town would not know about his passing and that finally Facebook could be useful for a real life situation and not just playing games or poking people or yes, posting funny eCards (which I am known to do from time to time).

Suffice to say the overall responses that day to the words I posted and the picture of the three common friends went beyond overwhelming. In the afternoon and evening there were over 60-70 comments and the whole collective became a memorial in and of itself. People were reading through all the comments two and three times and for a while there was a new comment about our friend every second. Many of the comments were thankful that this picture had been posted because it gave everyone a place to share their grief, memories, stories, and other internal feelings they’d have not been able to get out otherwise. It was this really positive thing.

Until.

You knew there was an “until” or a “but” coming.

In my FB inbox the next morning was a terse message from my deceased friend’s sister saying that it was her brother and I should have thought before posting the picture and a comment about what had happened because a niece allegedly found out on FB while the family was “quickly” trying to notify her (I say “allegedly” because by the time I posted it by my count the family had at least most of the day to “quickly” notify a niece and the niece is not a friend on my page, so it was shared much the way everything is in this day and age: at the speed of light through one sharing another sharing another). As I implied, I am not friends with any nieces, nephews, etc. so someone else had to share the post somewhere she ended up seeing it. I also wondered how someone who grew up in such a wildfire rumor mill as was our small community could think 7-8 hours was “quickly” in terms of getting it out to one person before the town started talking about it. My deceased friend still more or less lived in that community still, as does one (other) sister and his mother, or at least he was close enough that the first person who told the second person who told me knew about it two hours after the family was notified—clearly also having had the information shared with her.

Now you might think it sounds like I’m framing a defense for posting what I posted. Even though it turned into a much larger positive than a negative—60-70 loving, heartfelt, grief-filled, respectful, memory-inspiring, amazing well-wishes—I still apologized and did see that yes, my post probably should have been withheld a day or two, and I sincerely apologized to the sister. I also told her please, even though you’re upset with me and obviously have so much going on in your head and heart, the people who commented did nothing wrong and that she really needed to see the incredible outpouring of love to her brother, their family, and just the way the whole collection captured the sense of community that was one of the best things about growing up where we all did.

This was before I went to my own timeline, scrolled down, and saw that the picture and all 60-70 comments had been removed from my page (and thus everyone else’s timeline, too). It was as if the whole thing had never happened. Never mind that no bell could be unrung at that point; never mind that people were still pouring in the positive, loving comments; never mind that it was MY picture, MY FB page, MY 1st Amendment right to free speech.

It was gone.

My best guess? A person can simply click on any friend’s photo, post, etc. and Block/Report as Spam. Who decides these things when taking down what amounts to an American’s posting of his or her own words? Who looks to see if the photo is offensive in some way? Who decides if the comments are derogatory? At what point in the “process” is the person whose “speech” is about to be violated given a chance to even speak on his or her own behalf (not that they should have to—that’s the job of the 1st Amendment—but for the sake of discussion)?

Apparently there is no process. Speech is NOT free on Facebook; not when some grief-stricken person can simply click a button and POOF, said speech is quashed forever, and not just the initial poster but also the 40-50 people and their 60-70 comments (none of which, in this case, could be called anything but heartfelt, eloquent, and totally sharing condolence in nature).

I never received so much as a notification. And what are you supposed to do? The family has lost a son. It’s not the time for a 1st Amendment battle. But beyond the who, what, why, etc. I am shocked that what a person posts, says, comments, or writes—most particularly on his or her own page—can be summarily removed by any disgruntled user without so much as a discussion.

Done.

The Constitution? What’s that? Two sides and two stories? Protection of intellectual property?

Seems like Facebook has just decided that all it takes is one person, with no vetting whatsoever, to say one word and whatever is yours is theirs and they can erase it from existence. I realize this wasn’t intellectual property or a case of religious freedom speech, but we were planning on doing a memorial this summer for our friend and were going to use all the wonderful comments to put something together—now Facebook (and the knee-jerk reaction of one user) have erased that forever.

I was just speaking to another of my friends that was aghast that the picture and awesome words were A) reported to be removed and B) actually removed and she said “well, at least all of us who were gathered there, getting comfort, got to see the words while they were up.”

It’s too bad Facebook gets the only word in this situation. In fact, they offer no word.

They didn’t even notify me they removed it or why.

It seems to me Facebook owes more to me, my friend, and the 40-50 people they silenced without a thought. And though this is a small instance and in the scheme of grander problems perhaps not worthy of precedent-setting, I don’t like the implication of ultimate power Facebook is both using itself and granting to individual users to erase the words of others.

It smacks of the kinds of actions that lead to censorship.

But in this case I’ll take my friend’s advice and be happy to have seen such an impressive gathering of people who cared for Robb. Godspeed on your journey, my friend, and I will see you again one day.

I look forward to it.