Where death mostly comes in solitude, there are occasions where the vicissitudes of fate bring the Grim Reaper's scythe down by the score. These linger long in the public imagination - and while they are but a fraction of death they are the stuff of nightmare and soul-searching. Inquiries spend years looking into the events and politicians vow that such-and-such will never happen again.
But death cheats us all in the end and lays waste to any combination of safety measures. People continue to congregate by the thousand for many reasons and on tragic occasion meet their maker in horribly public ways.