The problem arises with those who mention it but also, in the same breath, say something along the lines of "we're not defined by our worst moments" or "none of us are saints". I once called this dithering pensioner who reversed into my car a "stupid dumb sad old decaying cnut" and one time I parked in a family parking spot, realised my kid wasn't with me, and didn't move my car. I also pretend to be fast asleep some mornings when the baby wakes up and it's meant to be my turn to get up with him in the morning. Equating most people's worst moments with rape is something that goes completely against what we find acceptable in normal life, but for some reason we excuse it when talking about someone who just died. Which would be fine if the person wasn't also being deified - called a genius or a perfect family man - at the same time.
That, for me, is the point where I think people watch the news coverage and can no longer keep quiet. But that's just me and I respect if others feel differently because I'm on the fence about the whole thing anyway and still shout "Kobe" when throwing rolled up paper into the office bin.