Unfortunately Undeservingly Unsolved

This story mainly comes to mind because it came up in random conversation at work today when something was said by a coworker that jogged my memory. It reminded me of an event that I truly believe won't happen to many people in their lifetime. All of us have moments like those, ones that you know are rare in their own way, yet you can't rule out the possibility that someone else has experienced it. It can be very small and seemingly insignificant to others, such as some achievement of your own that has little to no effect on anyone else, or it can be something much greater that impacts the lives of many people, yet it's still not an everyday thing. For me, it's not a great memory. It's something that will haunt me until either the mystery driver turns himself in or for the rest of my life.

I witnessed a hit-and-run murder. True story.

So I was about fourteen years old, and I was working off the books at a café in town. It was nice to have the little extra spending money as a teenager during the summer months, so working was worth it. The café was not far from my house at all. I'd say if I had to guess, it couldn't be more than a half-mile from home, so walking to and from was hardly an issue. I remember it was a warm evening, the sun was setting behind me as I made that familiar walk as I always did. Right at the intersection of my street and the one I was on at the time is a public park with a pond, swingsets and slides, and I was just about to turn the corner when it happened.

I was idly walking, looking down at the ground, not paying attention to the world around me that I saw everyday. That's when I hear it...two loud honks of a car horn and then a deafening thud. With nearly no hesitation, the car's tires spun like mad, screeching to get away as it swiftly took off down the road. I looked across the street only to see what appeared to be a Cabbage Patch doll laying against the curb. Simple logic tells me that a doll didn't throw itself in front of a moving car, nor was there anyone nearby that could have thrown it either. That's when my heart sunk to my heels because the only possibility left was that it was a small child.

My attention then focused on the car speeding away. By the time I had looked at the vehicle, it was too far away to get a license plate number, so the best I could do was provide an accurate description to the authorities. I can see the car now in my mind:

• Mid to late '80s model Chevy sedan (possibly a Chevy Celebrity)
• Boxy shape, not rounded as modern cars would have been
• Pewter color
• No visible damage on the driver's side of the vehicle

I still kick myself for not getting a plate number, but it just wasn't close enough to read. When the car turned down a street up ahead, I immediately ran home to call the police. I was told that they were already called and a squad car was en route. When the officer got there, he didn't wait for an ambulance, picked the little girl up, put her in the car and sped off to the hospital, but it was clear she wasn't breathing.

When the police came to investigate, I wanted to give them as much information as possible. I gave them a description, how far from the car/child I was, and answered anything else I could. As it turned out, the girl's mother was completely unaware that her 18-month old daughter had crawled through the doggy door when she wasn't looking and crawled out into the street. It's presumed that neglect was not the issue, it was just a terrible circumstance where the mother's attention was momentarily elsewhere. A couple of days later, a detective comes to the house driving a Chevy Celebrity to ask if that was just like the one I saw. I told him that the car that I saw was boxier and reemphasized the color to him. He then said that the witnesses in the park said the model he showed me was more accurate. Now forgive me for sounding like a know-it-all if that's how it comes off, but I was the closest person to the incident in question. I had the best view of the vehicle from the moment of impact to the moment he turned and sped out of sight. It seemed to me that they were more confident in the words of many adults (who likely compared their vantage points and mixed stories to create one) that were standing at least fifty feet away from the street and at too poor of an angle to see the car even halfway down the street. I know damn well what I saw, and it seemed like the word of a fourteen year old was not as reliable as several adults. It sucks, but that's life.

I swear that every time I'm in New York and I see a Chevy in that pewter color, I pay extra close attention in case it subconsciously reminds me of something I couldn't previously recall. The reason I have to do that is because there never was an arrest made. This child's death remains enough of a mystery that nobody can be held accountable for killing her. I just hope that the individual that is responsible for killing her is in emotional agony and mental anguish as long as he/she is alive. If he can't face the problem knowing it was purely an accident and that he can't be subject to prosecution if they don't know who did it, then he/she deserves to suffer with the memory for the rest of their lives.

I have to live with that memory all the time. I wish that wasn't the case, but it happened and there's nothing I can do to change or forget it. When that story comes to mind, I certainly pray for her family that night because that's not fair to them. Something tells me not many people can claim that they have witnessed such an event, but it's not a memory anyone should ever want. I also pray you never have to face such a thing.

D.