Seventeen

My pager went off a little before 3 o'clock this morning. I was a bit surprised by it, because the overnight desk usually isn't staffed on Friday and Saturday nights since there's no Saturday or Sunday morning shows. During the week the desk is staffed by the morning show producer, and he doesn't usually arrive until 3am anyway.

So, as I said, I was surprised to be jolted awake. That pager has to be the most annoying sound on the planet, next to my friend Rob's constant whistling. The page instructed me not to call our desk, but to call our crime reporter at home. It turned out he had gotten a call from one of his police contacts about a bad car accident that he needed me to check out.

My first spot news. The excitement of it was a little overwhelming. I suddenly really needed to use the toilet.

A few minutes later I was out the door and on my way in the Hate Van. I'm still learning my way around here, so I had to stop twice and look at the map book again. Unfortunately my map book is four years old and is missing a few pages; CP Rick says he'll get me a new one soon.

I finally found the accident. The police had put up crime scene tape a good distance from the scene, around a curve where I couldn't see a whole lot. I was told to stay there. I didn't see any other photogs around, but a newspaper reporter was already there.

A little later an ambulance came around the curve. An officer pulled the tape loose on one end to let it out. It wasn't going very fast and didn't have its lights on.

"Not a good sign," the reporter said. "He's not in a big hurry."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"It means there's no rush to get to the hospital."

A few minutes later the public information officer for the police department came out to the tape. By that time a newspaper photographer had shown up, and the three of us were briefed by the PIO.

"What we have is a single car accident," he said. "The driver proceeded around the curve here at a high rate of speed, lost control of the vehicle and departed from the roadway."

"It was fatal," said the newspaper reporter.

"One fatality," the PIO confirmed. "We've made contact with his family, but we're not releasing the name yet. There were no other passengers."

"Can you tell us how old?"

"Seventeen."

This kid had been out late with friends. He had dropped them all off and was on his way home when he took the curve too fast. The cops said alcohol didn't appear to be a factor, just speed.

They kept us where we were a bit longer, then took the tape down and let us go around the curve to get pictures of the scene. The tow truck was already hooking up the car to take it away when we were finally let in.

When I saw the car, I was somewhat surprised. It was a newer model Mustang. It had left the roadway all right, but it had simply skidded up an embankment and rolled onto its left side. It had already been pulled upright by the time we got back there, so we could see pretty clearly that it had very little damage. I walked up close; there was no blood anywhere, and the airbag hadn't even gone off. It certainly wasn't how I expected a fatal accident to look.

I got the attention of an officer nearby. "I don't understand what happened," I said. "It doesn't look like enough damage for somebody to have died."

"See that dent in the door?" A large dent in the driver's side door was the only significant damage on the whole car. "That was where his head ended up, with the car on top of him."

I stared at the dent. "How did he end up like that?"

"Wasn't wearing his seat belt. When it rolled over, it slung him halfway out."

I don't know how it would have affected me if I had seen blood and guts everywhere, or if the car had been smashed into a crumpled mess. But all day today the stupidity of what I saw has been bothering me. There was absolutely no reason for that kid to die like that. If he had been wearing his seatbelt he would have walked away. Hell, he probably would have driven away after the car was back on its wheels. Seventeen years old.

I went back to the station, edited a VO and left the tapes for the producer. I was back in bed around six, but I didn't go back to sleep.