The murder of Hannah Clarke and her three children —Aaliyah, Laianah, and Trey — are such deviations from the norm that we desperately try to rationalise the event.

We blame the monster, rather than the man — Rowan Baxter — and the society that allowed these murders to unfold.

The morning of Wednesday February 19, Hannah was taking her children to school when Baxter, her former husband, lit the car on fire and took his own life. No-one survived.

Devastatingly, these murders and what has been revealed to have occurred in the lead-up is all too common.

The truth is that Hannah had left her former husband late last year, which for many victims of family violence, is the time when the risk of violence escalates.

In the very human attempt to make "sense of the senseless" as one editor remarked, this story became about the "demon Dad", the "rugby star", the "picture perfect" family photos and the horrific scene of the crime.

All at the expense of the broader and blatantly obvious problem of domestic violence which sees on average, one Australian woman murdered every week.

Focusing on the "monster" is an easy way to avoid the fact that one in three Australians believe that if a woman does not leave her abusive partner then she is responsible for the violence continuing and one in five believe domestic violence is a normal reaction to stress.

Framing a tragedy

Of course, this is also the nature of the news.

Journalists must produce content quickly. They have been reporting the story from the moment it happened, with only the information made available to them from the police, witnesses, social media and family.

Initially, the police would have had very little information to give, which explains why early in the coverage the murders were framed as a "car fire" and Baxter was simply a "man known to the children".

Next, the media turned to witnesses, who were also in the dark and could only speak of the traumatic and disturbing scenes they had just watched unfold, adding to the sensational nature of the reporting which I refuse to repeat here.

Then there was social media.

Family violence could happen to anybody. ( Facebook )

From this universe of personal information came images of what so many media outlets called a "picture perfect" family, amplifying the horror of what seems to be such a random and shocking event, occurring to such normal people.

The Courier-Mail editor reflected on the social media videos and the family's lifestyle, "They were so suburban. So normal. So … Brisbane".

And yet, as Rosie Batty reminded us when she too was caught in the crossfire of the media following the tragic murder of her son Luke, "Family violence happens to everybody no matter how nice your house is".

The media re-published "chilling posts" Baxter had written about his children, such as "goodnight my babies" and other comments that began to paint the picture of a "virtual recluse" who was possibly suffering from mental health problems.

More articles quoted Lifeline and Beyond Blue helplines than the domestic violence helpline 1800 RESPECT.

Again, as is often the way, the story was framed as an individual's battle with mental health rather than family violence.

In one article, this occurred even though a "gender violence" expert was quoted.

Perhaps one of the most unsurprising and yet still infuriating representations of Baxter was his career as an "ex-Warriors" NRL player.

This was apparently so relevant, that a NZ Herald report on the murders was relegated to the sports section instead of crime.

The real story is hidden

Then the media began to report comments from the family.

Of course, these were coloured with rage. Hannah's father described Rowan Baxter as a "disgusting human being" and a "monster" who should "rot in hell", all of which made the headlines.

Woven through these reports a little less blatantly however were the tell-tale signs of family violence, with some journalists stepping up and connecting this tragedy with the epidemic, referencing statistics, systemic failures and society's responsibility to make change.

In one Courier-Mail article, written by Kate Kyriacou, the evidence of the power and control that preceded the murders was laid out.

Baxter was subject to a domestic violence order meant to protect Hannah, he had stalked and harassed her. Baxter had kidnapped his own child for four days.

The relative who was quoted throughout this article said, "I just want Hannah's story to be told, because there's a million [people like her]".

When will we hear Hannah's story?

Since her death, the wider public has learned that Hannah Clarke was an incredible mum to her beautiful children. ( Facebook )

Hannah's story is being told by some.

We have learned that she was an incredible mum to her beautiful children, a talented athlete, a role-model, "so incredibly full of laughter" and the "definition of love".

Katy Hall wrote for the Courier-Mail: "If we are serious about truly honouring the memory of those who fall victim to this horrendous epidemic, we cannot reduce a woman like Hannah's full and complex lives to just her marital status".

Despite these moments of awareness and nuance, the surge of reporting on this story is littered with sensationalism, insensitivity and obliviousness to the reality of family violence.

Many have been quick to criticise the media, a promising sign of community awareness.

Other have also defended journalists citing legal constraints, such as having to use the word "allegedly" or "suspected" until police confirmed it was a murder-suicide.

And, of course, there is the reality that journalists are trying to do their job in a fast-paced, content-driven landscape responding to audience demands for engaging content.

However, with the abundance of resources and guidelines available to journalists now to better report on family violence, it is difficult to comprehend why the isolated story of a "monster" provoked to kill, continues to play out.

In looking for an answer, Tom Meagher's words from over six years ago following the murder of his wife Jill Meagher, still ring true.

"The monster myth perpetuates a comforting lack of self-awareness … we can only move past violence when we recognise how it is enabled; by attributing it to the mental illness of a singular human being, we ignore its prevalence, its root causes, and the self-examination required to end the cycle."

Annie Blatchford is a PhD candidate at the University of Melbourne's Melbourne Law School.