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Reminds me of how firing squads had one rifle with a blank so each man could believe it wasn't him he killed his fellow.

I presume every one of the journalists that joined the pile-on, across the spectrum from poisonous to perplexed, has had to ponder their part, and that nearly all, for their well-being, will have concluded that either it wasn't a lynching, or, that their part cannot be considered part of a lynching.

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It's hard for me not to think of Shirley Jackson's story "The Lottery." Bloodlust. We humans in packs occasionally seem to need to engage in murder, in effect.