Back in March, when the Utah women's basketball team was staying in Idaho for its NCAA Tournament game, an 18-year-old goon yelled a racial slur at members of the team. They were walking to dinner the night before their initial game.

That's all they were doing. Going to dinner. Not that it matters. There's no excuse for that type of behavior. But it's an indicator of what life can be like for people of color across the country and not just in Idaho, either. Just minding our business. Walking or driving or bowling or getting the mail or watching a movie or, yes, just heading to dinner.

What happened to Utah became a national story about racism and the inequity the team faced since it had to stay in Idaho despite the fact the game was being played in Spokane, Washington. There was an investigation after the incident and this week a city prosecutor said his office was declining to charge the alleged harasser because his shouting of the N-word failed to meet certain legal thresholds and was protected under the First Amendment.

"Our office shares in the outrage sparked by (the man's) abhorrently racist and misogynistic statement, and we join in unequivocally condemning that statement and the use of a racial slur in this case, or in any circumstance," Ryan Hunter, the chief deputy city attorney for Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, wrote in a statement. "However, that cannot, under current law, form the basis for criminal prosecution in this case."

There's a larger part of this story and it's this: for the people on that Utah team who saw and heard what they did, this story might never be over.

That's because of the impact of hate. Hate is insidious. Hate is persistent. It crosses genomes and generations. It flows steady and strong. Some people don't even realize it's grabbed them. Others love to hate more than they enjoy love.

One of the most consistent aspects of hate is the damage done to the people targeted by it. The Utah team will feel the impact of that slur for years. Trust me on this. Sometimes, in those type of moments, you try to protect yourself with a forcefield of bravado. I'm not going to let them get to me.

But the weight of that word is empowered by kilotons of history. It has import and the bruising it causes does not go away easily or rapidly. No matter how much you try to diminish it.

That slur isn't just a slur. By using it he extended generational trauma.

Hunter explained that the person who yelled the slur did so because he thought it was funny.

“Setting aside the rank absurdity of that claim and the abjectly disgusting thought process required to believe it would be humorous to say something that abhorrent,” Hunter wrote, that fact undercuts the notion that the man had the specific intent to intimidate and harass, which are the key elements of a crime.

Maybe it's not a crime in Idaho. Maybe it is protected speech. That doesn't change the disgrace of using it.

Somewhere, during the life of this 18-year-old, someone taught him not only is it OK to use that word, but using it, to him, is actually funny. In the end, he caused significant damage to a group of people he didn't even know.