Fraternity-Testvériség, 1965 (43. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1965-06-01 / 6-7. szám
FRATERNITY 9 THE FACES OF TRAGEDY BY A CONVICTED HIT-AND-RUN KILLER As Told to Pete Simer Face it or not, it is a fact that every time you leave your car unlocked you are inviting major tragedy to haunt and torment some human being, quite possibly yourself. Proof lies in this reflection on the faces of tragedy in my life. The first face is mine. Two years ago it was among the happiest faces alive, especially one morning when it kissed . . . The second face, Nancy’s. We had been married 18 months and, only yesterday, Nancy had learned that our hopes for a child were just seven months from fulfillment. “Joe”, Nancy said, walking me out to our jalopy that morning, “our baby rates better than this rattletrap. Anyway, we can afford a newer car now.” Nancy knew I was hankering for a hardtop. I bought a nice one and was almost home with it when I was stopped by . . . The third face, Robin’s. Thrilling to the feel of all that new horsepower in my hands, I whrr-oomed around our corner and saw a sedan backing down a neighbor’s driveway. Imagine my shock, when I realized that five-year-old Robin was at the wheel! Robin was the undisputed darling of our block, a curly-top who delighted neighbors as readily as her namesake’s song. I jammed at the brake. Apparently, I hit the accelerator instead. However, the crash sprang a door on the sedan and sent Robin flying, curls foremost, to the pavement. Her doll landed nearby. Unseen, but forcefully felt, was . . . The fourth face — the overwhelming face of fear. It screamed these unforgettable words: “You’ve killed her! Turn this car around and get outta here, fast!” — Prodded by panic, I obeyed and thus invited . . . The fifth face, which belonged to a cop. Later, in a courtroom, 1 faced . . . The sixth face, that of a mother who mourned her only child. She testified: “We were going shopping. Robin was impatient, so I told her to take Mimi, her doll, and go wait in the car. A moment later I heard Robin’s last words. ‘Since you’re such an old slow-poke, Mommie’, she called from the car, T guess I’ll just have to take Mimi and drive to the shopping center without you!’ ” Many eyes shimmered in flash-flood tears. I wept, too. “But it wasn’t Joe's fault”, Robin’s mother continued, dabbing at her eyes. “Robin enjoyed playing in the car so much that I refused to recognize any great danger in this. Somehow, she must have shifted the car into neutral, allowing it to coast into Joe’s path.” Her defense of me was bolstered by . . . The seventh face, Robin’s father’s. “Joe is a fine man, a good neighbor”, he said. “He loved our Robin and doublessly would have
