I know that the tone of my blogs vary, but I want to tell you a story. It is entirely true and it is something that I will never forget...
Monday night, October 11, 2010. I was sitting in my latest graduate school class, cracking jokes with one of my classmates via e-mail. Our professor was new and felt the need to inform us that this course was his first as a graduate school professor.
He shouldn't have done that.
We didn't give him a hard time. We were adults after all. But, I couldn't help but notice how hard this guy was sweating. He had on a navy blue button down shirt and there were ever growing rings of sweat spreading across his chest.
I send an e-mail to my classmate: "Hey, why is your boy sweating so hard? Stop making him nervous! He's gonna drown himself by the end of the class."
I hit send, not thinking anything of the silly banter that we usually exchanged during these classes. My classmate got the e-mail and erupted into laughter, so much so that he began to choke and had to leave the room to get water. His coughing and walking out was all it took to send me into a giggle fit of epic proportions. As laughter is contagious, the whole class began to laugh, not knowing what the hell I was laughing about, but amused nonetheless.
The professor didn't have much to talk about and the giggle fit pretty much changed the whole mood of the room, so he dismissed us early. Yes! Out of class before 10 PM on an already long day. I had just started working a job where I had to be in a chair and coherent at 6 AM. I was grateful for the hour reprieve to go home and get into bed early.
My classmate recovered from his coughing fit and told me that I was terrible for making him laugh like that as we walked to our cars. We wished each other well and all set off to our respective homes. I had no idea that my mood and life would change in the next twenty minutes.
Leaving Torrance, I took my usual route home along to 405 North and navigated the hills to my humble abode in View Park. I got on the freeway and the traffic was light, which pleased me even more. I turned the radio up and looked forward to getting into my bed because 4:30 AM was going to come faster than I'd like.
I was passing the El Segundo Blvd. exit on the freeway when I looked up to the 105 freeway which loomed overhead. A stopped pick-up truck caught my eye. I was stopped on the overhead ramp, where cars NEVER stop. It's a transition road. Something must have been wrong to cause this vehicle to stop there. But, why was the driver's door open??
I returned my focus to the road ahead and just as I approached the Century Blvd exit, I noticed that there was something in the roadway in the lane next to me. It was kinda big and covered the whole lane. Maybe a roll of carpet or an animal. But, as I passed it, I realized what I saw.
That was a person. On the freeway. Not moving.
I immediately pulled over and stopped my car. I looked in my rear-view mirror to make sure that I hadn't hallucinated seeing this body in the road. I had been up for a while. That couldn't possibly be. But, I was wrong.
I looked in my rear-view and saw the body, laying lifeless in the roadway. I saw her. Oncoming traffic did not.
I grabbed my cell phone and my hands were trembling. I called 911 and other vehicles started to pull over. The operator asked me what happened and I told her that there was a woman in the road on the freeway and traffic was quickly approaching.
As I was trying my best to give my exact location to the operator, my eyes stayed fixated on my rear-view mirror. It was like the worst horror movie I had ever seen. This woman's body was laying in the lane, presumably landing there after jumping from the freeway overpass 50 feet above the lanes.
Cars were coming down the lane traveling upwards of 60 to 70 MPH and some did not see her until it was too late. I saw this woman's body get sideswiped, dragged, run over and maimed by the unsuspecting 405 motorists just trying to get to their next destination and there was nothing I could do to help.
I did not even realize that I was screaming or that I was in hysterics until I realized that the 911 operator told me that she couldn't help unless I calmed down. A stranger with an English accent walked up to my window and asked me if I was OK, as he heard my frantic call through my passenger's side window, as he watched the scene unfold.
The dispatcher assured me that there were patrol cars in the area and that one was en route to the scene to help. It seemed like an hour before I saw any kind of police lights. What I did see still haunts me from time to time. A gas tanker was coming down the lane where this woman lay. I know for a fact that the driver did not see her body re-positioned in its lane after being tossed under the tires of sedans and crossover SUVs. The tanker rolled over the woman's body like a speed bump. I saw the jump of the headlights and the accompanying rise and fall of the tanker behind it. It kept traveling down the 405, never even braking to see what just fell victim to it's monster tires and crushing weight.
After the tanker truck passed, a couple of pedestrian cars parked across the lane that the woman was in to prevent any further damage. It could only be hoped that the woman was dead. To survive all of that would be nothing short of hell. Eventually, a Highway Patrol cruiser showed up and stopped traffic all together. No traffic moving whatsoever on the 405. I got out of my car and walked to the nearest CHP officer. Another had taken his standard issue yellow tarp, spread it over the body and was now lighting flares.
I had stopped screaming at this point, but I was extremely dazed. Stunned. In a supremely altered state. I told the officers about the truck parked overhead with the door open and the vehicles running over her body like a stray German Shepard. The officer said that he didn't need any further information and released myself and the other witnesses from the scene.
I got into the car, took a deep breath and started driving. I needed to talk to someone. I had to tell someone what just happened. I needed to say the words to make sure this wasn't an extremely horrific nightmare.
I called Andrea and proceeded to breakdown... While driving. I'm really surprised that I made it home. Though, it wasn't far, I was still hysterical. All I wanted to do was see my child. I went to my mother's house, where she was sleeping, and stared at her.
My mother saw me in the room with her and asked me what happened. I told her in the most coherent manner I could muster about the truck, the body, the tractor trailer, the CHP... She said that it was a good thing I didn't get stuck in the traffic of the freeway being closed. I kissed my baby and went to lay down. There wasn't much I could say to that.
I went home and my brother was in the living room. I recounted to him the events of the evening. He asked me if I was OK. I said that I was and that I just wanted to lay down. It was 11:00 by this time and he began to flip through the local news stations. No mention of any freeway closures or suicides. I went to my room and sat in silence for 30 minutes. I then got ready for bed. I suddenly realized that I still had to work at 6 AM the next day and the asshole I was working for at the time could care less about me being traumatized.
I prayed and thanked God for keeping me & my daughter safe. I asked Him to comfort the family of the woman that died such a horrible death. And I closed my eyes.
No sooner than I did that did I see the body of the woman laying right next to me in my bed. I jolted awake and screamed. I ran downstairs to the kitchen in a panic, not knowing what I was looking for at all. My brother came in and asked me if I wanted tea. I said no. I needed to sleep and I needed to not remember. My eyes fell to my birthday bottle of Grey Goose. I grabbed it and took 4 shots. It took effect quickly and I was satisfied enough that I could at least drift off.
I slowly started to fall asleep and the woman appeared again. I again sat up with a start and turned on every light in my room. I cried until I couldn't anymore and eventually got a small amount of sleep.
4:30 AM came very quickly the next day and I awoke in a fog, literally and figuratively. I looked out into the still dark morning and a thick pocket of fog had rolled in from the coast. I did NOT want to drive in that weather, but had no choice. Moreso than the fog, I did not want to get back on the 405. Unfortunately, there was no other way to get to the office on time without taking that route. I dressed and cautiously drove to work. As I passed under the 105 interchange, a chill shot through my spine and I began to cry again in my car.
The whole next day was a blur. I spent most of the day crying and had to recount what I saw for the CHP investigator when he called on my morning break. I finished the day and went home to try and recover some of the sleep that I did not get the night before while the sun was up. I was somewhat successful, but was a bit bothered by the fact that I had heard NO news coverage about this woman and her last act.
I went online the next night to see if there were any print articles written about her and what may have driven her to this point, but I only found an uncredited blurb in a local Bay Cities paper that focused more on the freeway closure than the reason why.
In the days and weeks following this tragedy, there was never a mention in any public forum. I was talking to my father about the situation and he gave me a very heavy thought to consider: Imagine doing the most dramatic thing you could possibly do and no one even notices...
So, I recount this tale not as a homespun Halloween tale, but as a simple call to duty. Pay attention to one another. Don't let another cry for help go unanswered to the point where a voice is silenced. One person can make a difference.
