The loyalist gunmen who burst into the Railway Bar in Poyntzpass on Tuesday must have known very little about the community they were attacking. Or perhaps they didn't care that most people drinking in the Catholic-owned bar in the Co Armagh village were Protestants.
By a twist of fate, Damien Trainor (26), a Catholic, and Philip Allen (35), a Protestant, were lifelong friends who grew up around the corner from each other and for whom religion was never an issue.
The gunmen screamed at the half-dozen patrons to lie on the floor before firing on them at short range. Such brutality was shocking for the small, mixed community of Poyntzpass.
Damien Trainor and Philip Allen went to different schools but became friends because they shared an interest in cars and rallying. The village with its 300 residents is a place where such friendships can exist. Their fathers also grew up together and were friends, and Philip had asked Damien to be best man at his wedding later this year.
Friends described them as "quiet, hard-working fellows who would never harm anybody". Their friendship was not regarded as unusual. It was commonplace to see Philip, a lorry-driver, spend his Saturdays in the Trainor family garage, working alongside Damian.
While the wider world focused on the symbolism of their friendship, people in Poyntzpass just felt a sense of loss and anger. People cried in the street on Wednesday, and an unnatural silence descended. Neighbours and friends went from one family home to the other.
Poyntzpass had never before experienced the Troubles at first hand. It is more usual here to see farmers, wearing Wellington boots, having a chat on street corners, and where much of life revolves around the cattle mart.
A mart was taking place just across from the Railway Bar at the time of the shooting. If the gunmen had struck an hour later, the pub would have been packed. Mrs Bernie Canavan, who ran the Railway Bar, is 67 years of age and was known for her love of a chat and a bit of craic. She narrowly escaped injury, and relatives this week doubted she would be able to work again.
An elderly man, who knew the grandfathers of both men, struggled to find words to describe the killings. "In all my years it's the worst night that I ever remember," he said.
A neighbour, who has lived in the village for 30 years, said: "It was a very, very happy place to live in. Everybody was your friend. There were no divisions in Poyntzpass, and this has been shattered."
Poyntzpass may not be unique, but it is certainly unusual in the reality of Northern Ireland today. After 30 years of violence most people live in areas where the majority are of the same religion as themselves, where they feel "safe". The local MP, Mr Seamus Mallon, described Poyntzpass as the most integrated village in the North, and one man summed up what others were saying: "There was never anything organised here that both Catholics and Protestants didn't get involved in."
Even the term "good community relations" seems artificial in such a place. A local SDLP councillor, Mr Tommy Canavan, whose brother owned the bar where the men were killed, said Catholics and Protestants had always worked side by side in several village societies.
"It was always a close-knit community and we decided we would build on that during the Troubles. We kept it all together even during the bad years. No one ever suggested we should work at it. People just naturally worked at it."
There are no flags, painted kerbstones or sectarian slogans to be seen in Poyntzpass. On one occasion when slogans started to appear, a village committee quickly removed them. "We just painted over them until the ones who were doing it got the message," Mr Canavan said.
Catholics and Protestants frequented all three bars in the village. Both sides had their respective celebrations in March and July and everybody met in the bars on those nights as normal. Young men said they could "sit and slag each other off" when Celtic v Rangers matches were shown on TV. Because of the mixed clientele, nobody thought any of the bars would be attacked. "We would have laughed at the idea of installing security cameras," said a barman.
A retired Catholic curate, Father Desmond Corrigan, was visiting Damien Trainor's grandmother at the time of the shooting. He rushed to the scene and prayed with the two men as they lay dying. Two of Philip Allen's brothers had also been in the bar, but escaped injury. Both families arrived within minutes.
"We just tried to reassure them, to tell them to hold on, that the ambulance was on its way," Father Corrigan said. "People are aware that any family could have had a son or a daughter involved in that."
He believes relations between Catholics and Protestants will not be damaged. "That would be impossible here . . . If anything, they will be better after this, even."
The killings may never cause bitterness or division, but the village will never be the same. Damien Trainor's uncle, Colman, said: "Poyntzpass had escaped all the Troubles and we thought it was one of the safest places to be, but, unfortunately, it hasn't turned out that way."