A friend of mine who works at GDOT’s HERO Unit headquarters sent me some photos the other day. They were touching but also hard to look at. The photos were taken at the funeral of Spencer Pass, the first HERO to be killed in the line of duty. I found out about it on Facebook. That’s how I find out about everything these days. None of the local news websites had it for hours. I confess that I was crushed to find out the news in such a generic way, but grateful that the friend who posted it had done so, and also grateful that I wasn’t the one who had to talk to the press. Another friend at GDOT told me they didn’t want to announce it until after they were able to reach the family. When the local media did pick up the story and published some photos of what had happened, I got angry.
Spencer Pass was one of ”my” HEROs. I was there for his graduation from the months-long training program. I took his picture, found out where he was from, and sent his story to the local weeklies in his county. He was highly regarded as a HERO, and he was also a nice guy. That fateful Monday, he had stopped to assist a motorist. His HERO truck was placed properly, amber caution lights blinking, on the right shoulder behind the motorist’s Ford Ranger. Spencer was standing in front of the Ranger, the motorist was on the passenger side. Suddenly a guy in a pickup truck sideswiped the back of the HERO truck, taking a chunk out of the left rear. It kept going, hit the motorist’s vehicle, then hit Spencer. The motorist was able to get out of the way. Spencer Pass, 45 and a father of three, was killed.
Spencer was the first HERO to die in the 15-year history of the program. An amazing record, when you consider how often the HEROs stride out into the middle of the travel lanes to stop traffic. I spent more than five years watching them on the cameras and holding my breath. Drivers seemed relieved when they saw the HEROs get out and hold up their hands, and always stopped. They knew that they were 10 minutes away from an open road. So this is a tough one to understand, and another reason I’m angry. Why would anyone hit a HERO – or anything else – on the right shoulder? It makes absolutely no sense. What makes even less sense is the fact that, as of February 6, the killer still hadn’t been charged. Spencer’s funeral was Monday, February 7. There’s been no news since then in the local media. I haven’t asked my friends at HERO. Their pained expressions in the funeral photos have stopped me.
It’s just one more example of how little we consider the power and the responsibility of operating motor vehicles, and by extension, our reluctance to penalize those who kill with them. I use the word “killer” intentionally. That man killed Spencer as surely as if he’d shot him, stabbed him, or bludgeoned him to death. But since he did it with a pickup truck, he’ll be charged with vehicular homicide. It’s still homicide, but he won’t spend much time in prison – if he’s ever even charged with the crime. If he’d accidentally shot Spencer, he might have been charged with involuntary manslaughter. But the pickup truck reduces the severity of the crime, in the eyes of the law. Like it doesn’t matter as much.
And why is that? Spencer Pass is just as gone. His family doesn’t miss him any less. The HEROs don’t feel his absence on morning shift any less. And his is just one of thousands of similar stories. Killed in a traffic accident. In 2009, over 33,000 people died this way in the U.S. It was the lowest number of fatalities since 1954. The US DOT said that was good news. How does that compare to other, “more important” deaths? If 34,000 people were murdered nationwide every year, would the debate about gun rights keep raging? In 2006 there were over 30,000 deaths via firearms in the US, but almost 17,000 of these were suicides. Are more than half of traffic fatalities suicides? I seriously doubt it. But there’s no real debate about traffic safety, no national movement that keeps the topic in the media. That discussion is relegated to DOTs and other agencies. And HEROs.
I knew a guy whose dad taught him to drive, as many dads have done and continue to do. But before he let his son get in the car, he stood in front of it, pointed at it, and made a profound statement that his son never forgot. To this day the son drives like a grandma, and when he’s been teased, has told the story of his first driving lesson. His father said, “Be careful with this. A car is a weapon. You might as well be driving a gun.”
I wish the driver who ended Spencer Pass’ life had learned that lesson, too.
