This is going to be one of those out-in-left-field sort of blogs; one of those things people don't really talk about, but somehow it creeps up into the conversation and you just let it out in the open. When it happened, when both events happened, we were very somber about it, very taken by it, and we didn't blog, post, really even talk about it with anyone other than really close friends because it just seemed to be so out there - - but it's been 19 years ago tomorrow.
I was teaching at Oklahoma City Community College, and the girls were quite young. Some times when I think about it I am brought to tears. I was driving to my job, girls in tow because I had full custody and couldn't afford a babysitter in the evenings when I taught. They had to go with me, and they pretended to be in college; going to the library, hooking up their own computers or borrowing one from the media center, so they could watch movies. Perfect angels mostly, but not always. I'll talk about that in another blog.
Driving down Council Road south of I-40, Tuesday, May 6, 2003, just after 4:30 p.m, my first class to teach started at 5:30 p.m. and I am never ever late, I glanced to the side of the bridge we were crossing and I saw something. I saw something that absolutely looked like a man's head rolled to the side, propped up against the curb. Could it be a mask maybe? Masks aren't completely round, they only cover the face; maybe it was one of those rubber masks that you slip over your entire head. I guess my mind was thinking it needed to be a mask -- it wasn't as mask. It was exactly what it looked like. I was now trying to focus on the road, focus on my civil duty to report what I know I saw, and focus on not going back to look at it again to be 100% sure because again, I had the girls in the car, and I know Caity thought she saw it too. I wanted her to think it was a mask so I just said it was - - as I pulled into the Southside fire department to let them know what it was now I knew what I had just seen.
I left the girls in the car so I could openly speak with the Chief to let him know where the head was. To my surprise, I was told that someone else had reported seeing what looked like a mask on the side of the road so they didn't really see a need to check it out; but now that I came by in person they would. I thanked them and tried hard not to think about it the rest of the night, but that didn't happen. I could only think of it. Going home I decided to take another route -- just in case. It would have been too dark after 10:30 p.m. to see it if it was still there on the bridge, but I didn't want to take that chance or even hear Caity say something about it. I just let them think it was a mask, and it was gone. It would be gone next time we drove down that way. It was not gone the next time we drove by. I wish it was.
When we drove by the bridge just two days later, as I taught on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I was a bit apprehensive as we approached the bridge. All clear for now, as it appeared I would be crossing over completely without any sightings until I did see it - - but it was no longer propped up on the curb. It had been hit at least once and probably more; it had been run over in fact, and there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that it was not only human, but it was a man's head - - how could this happen? Why didn't the fire department crew see it on Tuesday? It was in the open! It was literally rolled up against the curb! I pulled back into the station with my eyes popping and my hands shaking - - again, I left the girls in the car. They didn't see what I saw, thank God.
The Chief was out this time, but the Lieutenant assured me that they had gone out to look, but that there was nothing seen or found. They had not stopped and searched, just driven by, and now, because I had seen what I had seen, I wasn't allowed to go on to work. I was asked to stay until the police could come by and question me, get my full statement, and possibly question Caity as well. Thankfully, Laura had been playing in the backseat on Tuesday, she never saw anything. I called my boss to explain myself, and why I would not be teaching, he was silent for quite a long time, but understood. He said he would post a notice on the door and the students could expect an email from me tomorrow. That was probably the first time I ever sent out a masse e-mail about the week's assignments. It wasn't the last time, but in 2003, there weren't nearly as many online courses.
The police came to the fire department, questioned me, questioned Caity, and gave both the girls a plastic silver badge for being brave and helping them in their investigation. The firemen, not to be out-done by their local LEOs, took the girls into the fire station, gave them a full blown tour, let them sit in the truck, blare the sirens, and wear the gear! I couldn't thank them enough for taking the time to show my girls just how courageous they need to be in times of trouble. I asked the police officers if I was able to find out what happened -- if I was even allowed to know. They agreed to keep me posted.
About six weeks passed and I received a call from the Oklahoma City Police department. I was told that a few weeks back a lone trucker had decided to continue cruising at a good clip when he apparently not only hit a deer, but was pretty sure it had been thrown over the bridge and into the ditch. He never reported it, but he must have at least told someone because the police detectives assigned to the case were able to find the driver and thankfully even after all that time, he never completely washed the grill of his truck. He hadn't hit a deer, he had hit a homeless man. Though I wasn't allowed to know the man's name, age, or much more than just that he was in fact homeless, and wearing a buckskin colored coat, I was told that his body was eventually located and his next of kin informed.
Another few weeks went by and you think you're going to get over it, but every time I drove over the bridge I prayed for the man and for his family. Though I knew and know that since the man was dead that no amount of prayer would help his soul - - it may help his family. I was called into the office at Oklahoma City Community College by my department head. He wanted to personally thank me for being a dutiful citizen, for reporting the event in the first place, and of course for following through. As it turns out the homeless man had family in the community; one called my school to ask them to personally thank me. The man had been a military veteran, having served in the United States Marines for five years during the Viet Nam conflict -- he was and had been homeless for over a year without any contact with his family due to mental incompetence, which led to him becoming violent at family gatherings. They wanted to help him, but he would not allow it.
I think about that. I think about the heart needing a second chance, and the things we say to homeless people; this was probably the beginning of my decision to try and be more compassionate -- to keep my eyes open, my heart soft for those who just don't have what society says they need to have in order to be accepted. Thank God for places like the Jesus House in Oklahoma City, and Bethany Christian Trust in Scotland. Everyone needs to be counted and given love; everyone. No one is an island.
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