Red Light

photo by Dylan

Philosophers have speculated forever whether something that occurs without a witness, like a tree falling in a forest, actually "happens." In that sense, what experiences in our lives are real, and which can safely be forgotten?

I wonder about these things. Today, in the news, I read about two hit-and-run accidents, where victims were killed by drivers who didn't stop to check on the person they hit, but who ran, as fast as they could, to a place they consider safe.

What do they do next? Clean up their car? Cover up their crime? Ask a trusted friend to take care of these technicalities, either explicitly or with no hard questions asked?

I've always wondered about these events, mostly from the perspective of a driver. What about the harried executive, just trying to get home, where his depressed wife is frantic, and away from his job, where his demanding staff holds onto him until the very last possible moment of his departure?

It is my guess, but not my knowledge, that this is the context within which most inadvertent killings by drivers occur. After the deed is done, and they decide to flee the scene, how do they feel?

How do they feel the next morning when they read the newspaper and discover that the person they killed was a foreign soldier on leave in this town; or a father trying to change his tire?

How do they live with themselves, these murderers? Are they haunted by guilt, knowing they always may be one slip away from being discovered?

Or, do they comfort themselves that it really was the victim's fault -- he who was in the wrong place at the moment?

I can't help wondering what the answers to these questions are, every day as I read the police reports and the obits in my local paper. So many stories never seem to have an ending.

That is what creates investigative reporters. We can never accept these non-solutions.

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