The violent deaths of two well-liked and civic-minded local people in the last year are very much on the minds of neighborhood people this week.

As we report today, last May's stabbing death of Ronan Park's John Beresford - a crime that remains, disturbingly, unsolved - is central to a West Roxbury benefit gathering on Saturday evening. Beresford was killed when he intercepted two young men who had just accosted another neighbor. Beresford, who had been instrumental in making substantial improvements to Ronan Park, died just steps from its entrance in a final act of devotion to his neighborhood and his friend.

Beresford's death was one of scores that have marred the past nine months in this city. But his continues to stand out, in one sense, because inherent in Beresford's sacrifice is the delicate question of just how far we as city dwellers should take our own, personal efforts to protect our streets. Did John err in his decision to step forward? Should he have stayed inside and just waited for the police? Should he have fallen back on the instinct to protect himself from harm, the reflex that so many of us have learned through the years?

Perhaps. But, where does one draw that line and how should we, as neighbors, react when such outrages occur in our presence?

Last September's murder of Betina Francois, a Haitian-American woman who lived and died in Brockton, is instructive, too. Francois, who was known to many in and around Dorchester for her work as a development officer at Mattapan Community Health Center - was slain, allegedly by her estranged boyfriend, Pierre Cadet, who is jailed in Plymouth now, awaiting trial for first-degree murder.

Last Saturday, scores of neighbors and friends gathered for a memorial service organized by colleagues at Mattapan's health center. Many friends and co-workers spoke tearfully, ruefully about how they had no idea that Francois - a pretty, petite young woman whose ever-present smile hid a dark reality- was living in the shadow of fear. It was only after her brutal slaying that they learned that Betina had a restraining order out against her ex-boyfriend, a precaution that ultimately failed her.

Could anyone - friends, family, co-workers - have prevented a determined, deranged killer from carrying out his madness? We will never know.

Ours is a society where life has been cheapened by sustained acts of carnage on our own streets. Where neighborhood parks are named for children slain- not on foreign battlefields - but mere blocks from their home. Where a man can die in broad daylight on the Red Line tracks at Fields Corner and we complain, not about his fate, but about being delayed by the resultant traffic.

The numbing effects of too-many atrocities has numbed us to the pain. And, in a perverse side effect, we often find ourselves blaming the victim: Why did John risk his own safety so recklessly? Why didn't Betina speak up about her perilous situation? What was that young man doing out so late on that corner, wearing those sneakers, that jewelry? They were asking for trouble.

Remembering the lives and deaths of John, Betina and the other more anonymous victims is essential to combating crime in this and every city neighborhood. It's time for us to acknowledge that the alternative, the all-too-common indifference, only contributes to the injustice of the act and does violence to the memories of our friends and neighbors.