On a lake an hour from my home, a 32-year old law student, his 25-year old brother and another guy went boating. The law student had downed 12 beers before taking the wheel (and has a previous boating while intoxicated record). He slammed into another boat, containing a vacationing police office from Pennsylvania and his girlfriend, knocking everyone into the water.
The law student swung around to pick up his two passengers, left the others in the water, and drove four miles back to his dock. There, he debated for a while what to do before finally calling 911. The officer was dead on the scene. His girlfriend was flown to a nearby hospital, where she shortly died.
The younger brother, protecting his older brother, originally claimed responsibility, until the Sheriff finally got the truth.
The Sheriff called the incident "cowardly."
I think that's a fantastic understatement, that his "man" has no right to wear testicles, and that they should be cut off with a razor, one thin slice at a time, as slowly as possible.
Then he should be hurt.
What the hell is wrong with people?
Fantastically poor judgment isn't limited to intoxicated males, unfortunately. A few weeks ago, a young mother, with three young children safely strapped in the back seat, was pulled over by a trooper. As soon as he opened his door, she took off--she was driving with a suspended license. In the ensuing chase, she lost control. A tree split the car in half, instantly killing her children, sending her to the hospital's intensive unit.
Why?
Writer
Showing posts with label sheriff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sheriff. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Home Insecurity
[I wrote this during Bush’s first term. Considering the recent cases involving reading the government reading email and tracking Internet viewing, I thought it worth a second look.]
“Get back in your car!” came the angry order.
“I live here!” I answered, only to hear the angry order repeated.
I’d just returned from Thanksgiving dinner at a friend’s house, a bit after 8 p.m., and I was listening the to rest of an NPR story (I can’t get NPR inside my country home). I wasn’t even sure about the source of the order, since no lights were flashing, and I wasn’t entirely sure the truck I saw suddenly swing around belonged to the Sheriff’s department. I certainly couldn’t tell at the time, since the truck was parked at an angle in the nearest lane, lights shining in my face, all I could see. I had tried to get out to explain that all was well.
The eventual terse conversation clarified the officer’s stated position that he didn’t know if I needed roadside assistance (I certainly hope this isn’t his usual roadside manner) and that since he doesn’t know me, he’s safer approaching me (like I’m safe from an unknown driver spinning around and accosting me). I was saved further harassment primarily after pointing out to the officer that I had only been sitting there five minutes or so, as evidenced by my fresh tire tracks--clearly indicating I’d backed into my parking spot intentionally.
Technology probably saved me further difficulties that Thanksgiving evening. The officer twice asked me my name, and certainly he could from there check my story--the phone book would do, but the patrol car laptop would also suffice--as well as checking my registration, insurance, and any possible prior incidents.
But in short, I was accosted in my own driveway, way out in the country, for listening to the radio, and primarily because the officer in question found listening to the radio in a driveway foreign. Hence, I’m even more concerned than before about the surveillance measures the Bush administration has pursued so relentlessly. Will other people’s perception of what is normal and acceptable become, ipso facto, the law?
I fear that’s so. The Bush administration is constructing an information system to combine all available data in one central location. All activities, all purchases, all Internet queries and more will be available without a search warrant. And in charge of this data? None other than John Poindexter, convicted of conspiracy, lying to Congress, defrauding the government, and destroying evidence in the Iran Contra scandal, convictions later overturned during George H’s presidential tenure on the grounds that despite the truth of Poindexter’s testimony, he’d made an immunity deal in return for his testimony.
The information system is nominally a response to the “War against Terrorism,” an extremely unfortunate characterization. Certainly there’s a serious threat that needs serious consideration, but crediting the Bush administration for its response to this threat has serious problems: (1) such a broadly defined “war” will never have an end, leaving every president with broad and ambiguous power to do whatever in the name of national security forever, since such a war can never be declared “over” with certainty; (2) the Bush Administration could have prevented the 9/11 attacks by seriously considering instead of dismissing the Clinton administration’s reports about the growing threat; (3) naming Henry Kissinger, architect of the secret bombings in Cambodia and Laos to lead an investigation into the current administration’s failure to address 9/11 seems to have only one logical reason--Kissinger won’t embarrass the president (and replacing him with Tom Kean, a man with virtually no intelligence experience, underscores that the point of the investigation is to find nothing); (4) while Attorney General John Ashcroft insists the government needs greater powers to protect Americans against terrorists, he also refuses to allow tracking firearms as a violation of Constitutional rights, a bizarre contradiction in priorities (and does anyone really believe that a group of militia folk could hold off a hostile U.S. government with the state of weapons technology today? Should U.S. citizens be allowed to become nuclear powers?).
The truth is that technology will change multiple aspects of American life, and it probably can’t be stopped. Many of the consequences will be wonderful. Eventually, for example, people needing organ transplants will clone their own replacements, solving a current medical crisis. And, the unprecedented access to information by anyone with access to a computer and a modem is certainly beneficial. But this will come with costs. Further, given the current administration’s obvious disdain for Constitutional protections, it’s not hard to imagine that with or without official approval, illegal surveillance may already be in progress. Certainly, legal protections didn’t stop the Nixon administration.
The danger is that anyone in power can force a preconceived view of ethics on the public. There will be no escape, since any book purchase, any email, any documented action or position will be available for review. Given current political strategies of finding whatever fact can be spun and doing so negatively, America may be headed not for an era of truth, but for layers and layers of lies. Further, the electorate seems unconcerned. True, access to information is greater than ever before, but so relatively few people use this power, and even fewer evaluate that information before accepting it. Thus, although the danger from outside U.S. borders is real, the potential danger from the U.S. government is equally real.
And even if not, benignly collected data will always be in jeopardy from an outside hacker.
Consequently, everyone’s freedom--and perhaps life--is potentially in danger in the 21st century from anyone who finds any particular action or thought unsatisfactory--even listening to the radio in one’s own driveway.
George Orwell may have been correct--he just got the year wrong.
Writer
“Get back in your car!” came the angry order.
“I live here!” I answered, only to hear the angry order repeated.
I’d just returned from Thanksgiving dinner at a friend’s house, a bit after 8 p.m., and I was listening the to rest of an NPR story (I can’t get NPR inside my country home). I wasn’t even sure about the source of the order, since no lights were flashing, and I wasn’t entirely sure the truck I saw suddenly swing around belonged to the Sheriff’s department. I certainly couldn’t tell at the time, since the truck was parked at an angle in the nearest lane, lights shining in my face, all I could see. I had tried to get out to explain that all was well.
The eventual terse conversation clarified the officer’s stated position that he didn’t know if I needed roadside assistance (I certainly hope this isn’t his usual roadside manner) and that since he doesn’t know me, he’s safer approaching me (like I’m safe from an unknown driver spinning around and accosting me). I was saved further harassment primarily after pointing out to the officer that I had only been sitting there five minutes or so, as evidenced by my fresh tire tracks--clearly indicating I’d backed into my parking spot intentionally.
Technology probably saved me further difficulties that Thanksgiving evening. The officer twice asked me my name, and certainly he could from there check my story--the phone book would do, but the patrol car laptop would also suffice--as well as checking my registration, insurance, and any possible prior incidents.
But in short, I was accosted in my own driveway, way out in the country, for listening to the radio, and primarily because the officer in question found listening to the radio in a driveway foreign. Hence, I’m even more concerned than before about the surveillance measures the Bush administration has pursued so relentlessly. Will other people’s perception of what is normal and acceptable become, ipso facto, the law?
I fear that’s so. The Bush administration is constructing an information system to combine all available data in one central location. All activities, all purchases, all Internet queries and more will be available without a search warrant. And in charge of this data? None other than John Poindexter, convicted of conspiracy, lying to Congress, defrauding the government, and destroying evidence in the Iran Contra scandal, convictions later overturned during George H’s presidential tenure on the grounds that despite the truth of Poindexter’s testimony, he’d made an immunity deal in return for his testimony.
The information system is nominally a response to the “War against Terrorism,” an extremely unfortunate characterization. Certainly there’s a serious threat that needs serious consideration, but crediting the Bush administration for its response to this threat has serious problems: (1) such a broadly defined “war” will never have an end, leaving every president with broad and ambiguous power to do whatever in the name of national security forever, since such a war can never be declared “over” with certainty; (2) the Bush Administration could have prevented the 9/11 attacks by seriously considering instead of dismissing the Clinton administration’s reports about the growing threat; (3) naming Henry Kissinger, architect of the secret bombings in Cambodia and Laos to lead an investigation into the current administration’s failure to address 9/11 seems to have only one logical reason--Kissinger won’t embarrass the president (and replacing him with Tom Kean, a man with virtually no intelligence experience, underscores that the point of the investigation is to find nothing); (4) while Attorney General John Ashcroft insists the government needs greater powers to protect Americans against terrorists, he also refuses to allow tracking firearms as a violation of Constitutional rights, a bizarre contradiction in priorities (and does anyone really believe that a group of militia folk could hold off a hostile U.S. government with the state of weapons technology today? Should U.S. citizens be allowed to become nuclear powers?).
The truth is that technology will change multiple aspects of American life, and it probably can’t be stopped. Many of the consequences will be wonderful. Eventually, for example, people needing organ transplants will clone their own replacements, solving a current medical crisis. And, the unprecedented access to information by anyone with access to a computer and a modem is certainly beneficial. But this will come with costs. Further, given the current administration’s obvious disdain for Constitutional protections, it’s not hard to imagine that with or without official approval, illegal surveillance may already be in progress. Certainly, legal protections didn’t stop the Nixon administration.
The danger is that anyone in power can force a preconceived view of ethics on the public. There will be no escape, since any book purchase, any email, any documented action or position will be available for review. Given current political strategies of finding whatever fact can be spun and doing so negatively, America may be headed not for an era of truth, but for layers and layers of lies. Further, the electorate seems unconcerned. True, access to information is greater than ever before, but so relatively few people use this power, and even fewer evaluate that information before accepting it. Thus, although the danger from outside U.S. borders is real, the potential danger from the U.S. government is equally real.
And even if not, benignly collected data will always be in jeopardy from an outside hacker.
Consequently, everyone’s freedom--and perhaps life--is potentially in danger in the 21st century from anyone who finds any particular action or thought unsatisfactory--even listening to the radio in one’s own driveway.
George Orwell may have been correct--he just got the year wrong.
Writer
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
The Fountain
What I remember most is the fountain. A column of sparkling particles rose in the bright sunlight and gracefully spread in a shower of glittering splendor before delicately falling back to earth.
It was a beautiful day--clear, warm, calm, a good day for lazy pursuits. I was on my way to visit my grandfather in Western New York, enjoying the scenic ride along Rt. 20. Suddenly, as a reflex, I started to shout an obscenity as my hand pounded the horn and my foot stomped on the brake--the idiot in front of me was stopping abruptly. But almost as soon as I had reacted, I froze--a car from the oncoming lane had swerved into the path of the car in front of me, causing the abrupt stop. Everything changed in that instant. I could no longer hear my voice, still shouting my obscenity, now in mid-word. I couldn't hear the horn blaring, I couldn't hear the tires screaming, and I didn't hear the two cars hit as I watched them crumple in slow motion. My car was skidding to an eventual stop, but I knew I'd never be able to stop in time. I watched the glass fountain slowly rise, catching the sunlight, spreading its misty brilliance, and float back to the ground. The cars continued their dance, slowly bounced apart, and I skidded through the space they created.
I thought my car would never finally stop; it seemed to skid for hundreds of feet for a few minutes, even though I hadn't been traveling fast. My instant impulse after finally reaching the roadside was to jump out and run to help the accident victims. But “jump and run” had a new definition. People performing in underwater ballets move faster. All my strength went into every stride, but every stride seemed to take minutes.
Still, I was the first on the scene, and time returned to its normal pace. The car that had swerved held a college age woman, unconscious, her lip hanging from the half still attached, half her face coated with blood. "I'm drowning" she repeated, barely audible. The other car held a family of four, Mom, Dad, and two children, probably two and four years old. None of them had been wearing seat belts; Mom and Dad were trapped under the dash, and the children had been thrown from the car.
Other people started to arrive on the scene, and Mom woke, "My babies! Where are my babies?" Two of the new arrivals surrounded the children lying motionless on the ground. "People are looking after them," I fudged, not knowing if the children were even alive. "Try to remain calm while the ambulance comes, OK?," I lamely attempted. She agreed, calmed down for just a few moments, and started screaming again. I repeated my attempts to keep her calm, and we continued this cycle for several minutes until the paramedics finally arrived. I walked over to the grass to wait my turn to talk to the Sheriff, sat down, and finally fell apart, shaking violently for several minutes.
Everyone did survive the collision, I finally visited my grandfather, and except for occasional calls from the two parties' lawyers looking for court evidence, I had largely forgotten the incident after a time--except for the fountain--until a few summers ago.
Early one Sunday morning, a rabbit darted into the road just a few feet in front of my car. Again reacting, I slammed on the brakes, instantly spinning the car. Used to years of winter driving, I turned into the spin, but the car was already traveling sideways off the road. Although I wasn't driving fast, I knew I'd never be able to stop before I hit the tree in front of me; I never saw the tree my car hit sideways, just inches behind the driver's seat.
No slow motion this time--everything happened too quickly to follow. Just a second or too passed before an onlooker called 911 and kept me from trying to leave my car, pointing out that my arm was torn open, something I hadn't realized. The paramedics seemed to arrive in under a minute, and insisted, foolishly, I thought at the time, on cutting me out of my car. I calmly answered questions and even joked a little, until finally, in the ambulance, I went into shock. Worried medics hurriedly started IV drips and draped every blanket available over my still shivering body as I turned pale white. Radio conversations with the emergency room staff heralded our imminent arrival. But, several X-rays and a little surgery later, I was on my way home.
It took weeks to fully absorb what had happened. I thought the insurance company too hastily wrote off my car as totaled. I described the event to friends almost as a fender bender. I wondered why I had nightmares, something I hadn't experienced for years. It was three or four weeks before I realized that with a few inches difference, the tree that crushed my back seat would have crushed my skull. I guess that explains why I could barely move--or breathe--for a few months. My sister had taken pictures of my former car the day of the accident and mailed me a set. I finally opened the envelope.
Denial is easy, and human capacity for indulging it is staggering. The clear facts steadily stare, but they're so often invisible. Fountains are like that. They appear solid and still, despite their actual constant motion and nebulous, liquid state. Like fountains, focused will can propel us for a fair distance, but inevitably that originally climbing column will reach its zenith and dissipate in a shower of disintegrated droplets. Obviously life will end for all of us, but we manage to act in daily life as if we will never lose power. But control is an illusion. The fountain is beautiful, but the water supply can be shut off at any moment.
Writer
It was a beautiful day--clear, warm, calm, a good day for lazy pursuits. I was on my way to visit my grandfather in Western New York, enjoying the scenic ride along Rt. 20. Suddenly, as a reflex, I started to shout an obscenity as my hand pounded the horn and my foot stomped on the brake--the idiot in front of me was stopping abruptly. But almost as soon as I had reacted, I froze--a car from the oncoming lane had swerved into the path of the car in front of me, causing the abrupt stop. Everything changed in that instant. I could no longer hear my voice, still shouting my obscenity, now in mid-word. I couldn't hear the horn blaring, I couldn't hear the tires screaming, and I didn't hear the two cars hit as I watched them crumple in slow motion. My car was skidding to an eventual stop, but I knew I'd never be able to stop in time. I watched the glass fountain slowly rise, catching the sunlight, spreading its misty brilliance, and float back to the ground. The cars continued their dance, slowly bounced apart, and I skidded through the space they created.
I thought my car would never finally stop; it seemed to skid for hundreds of feet for a few minutes, even though I hadn't been traveling fast. My instant impulse after finally reaching the roadside was to jump out and run to help the accident victims. But “jump and run” had a new definition. People performing in underwater ballets move faster. All my strength went into every stride, but every stride seemed to take minutes.
Still, I was the first on the scene, and time returned to its normal pace. The car that had swerved held a college age woman, unconscious, her lip hanging from the half still attached, half her face coated with blood. "I'm drowning" she repeated, barely audible. The other car held a family of four, Mom, Dad, and two children, probably two and four years old. None of them had been wearing seat belts; Mom and Dad were trapped under the dash, and the children had been thrown from the car.
Other people started to arrive on the scene, and Mom woke, "My babies! Where are my babies?" Two of the new arrivals surrounded the children lying motionless on the ground. "People are looking after them," I fudged, not knowing if the children were even alive. "Try to remain calm while the ambulance comes, OK?," I lamely attempted. She agreed, calmed down for just a few moments, and started screaming again. I repeated my attempts to keep her calm, and we continued this cycle for several minutes until the paramedics finally arrived. I walked over to the grass to wait my turn to talk to the Sheriff, sat down, and finally fell apart, shaking violently for several minutes.
Everyone did survive the collision, I finally visited my grandfather, and except for occasional calls from the two parties' lawyers looking for court evidence, I had largely forgotten the incident after a time--except for the fountain--until a few summers ago.
Early one Sunday morning, a rabbit darted into the road just a few feet in front of my car. Again reacting, I slammed on the brakes, instantly spinning the car. Used to years of winter driving, I turned into the spin, but the car was already traveling sideways off the road. Although I wasn't driving fast, I knew I'd never be able to stop before I hit the tree in front of me; I never saw the tree my car hit sideways, just inches behind the driver's seat.
No slow motion this time--everything happened too quickly to follow. Just a second or too passed before an onlooker called 911 and kept me from trying to leave my car, pointing out that my arm was torn open, something I hadn't realized. The paramedics seemed to arrive in under a minute, and insisted, foolishly, I thought at the time, on cutting me out of my car. I calmly answered questions and even joked a little, until finally, in the ambulance, I went into shock. Worried medics hurriedly started IV drips and draped every blanket available over my still shivering body as I turned pale white. Radio conversations with the emergency room staff heralded our imminent arrival. But, several X-rays and a little surgery later, I was on my way home.
It took weeks to fully absorb what had happened. I thought the insurance company too hastily wrote off my car as totaled. I described the event to friends almost as a fender bender. I wondered why I had nightmares, something I hadn't experienced for years. It was three or four weeks before I realized that with a few inches difference, the tree that crushed my back seat would have crushed my skull. I guess that explains why I could barely move--or breathe--for a few months. My sister had taken pictures of my former car the day of the accident and mailed me a set. I finally opened the envelope.
Denial is easy, and human capacity for indulging it is staggering. The clear facts steadily stare, but they're so often invisible. Fountains are like that. They appear solid and still, despite their actual constant motion and nebulous, liquid state. Like fountains, focused will can propel us for a fair distance, but inevitably that originally climbing column will reach its zenith and dissipate in a shower of disintegrated droplets. Obviously life will end for all of us, but we manage to act in daily life as if we will never lose power. But control is an illusion. The fountain is beautiful, but the water supply can be shut off at any moment.
Writer
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