The Commandment: Balancing Justice

The Commandment

Balancing Justice

By

David A. Siebert

Smashwords Edition

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

David A. Siebert on Smashwords

The Commandment

Balancing Justice

Copyright © 2010 by David A. Siebert

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Mother Trucker

Chapter 2: The Morning Show

Chapter 3: Unrequited Love

Chapter 4: Defending Counsel

Chapter 5: Venture Nothing

Chapter 6: The Graduates

Chapter 7: Community Service

Chapter 8: Compassion

Chapter 9: Rebuilding Jericho

Chapter 10: The Rock

Chapter 11: In the Beginning

Chapter 12: Fly by Night

Chapter 13: Behind the Scenes

Chapter 14: A Stolen Moment

Chapter 15: Apprehension

Chapter 16: Captivated

Chapter 17: Abused and Neglected

Chapter 18: Revisiting the Stone

Parting Thought: Not for Prophets

About the Author

Chapter 1: Mother Trucker

Saturday morning, 2:00AM, a bright red Peterbilt tractor trailer sits on a seemingly secluded stretch of rural desert highway. The moon hangs low over a mountain range setting some distance to the southeast. Soft lights of a distant city frame the mountains in an eerie glow. Although thick clouds shade most of the highway around the truck, moonlight coming over the mountains frame yucca, sagebrush and cactus in the distance. Thirty tons of auto parts stacked in the trailer look ready for delivery, but this is not to be tonight. This trip is deliverance for the person in the driver’s seat. This delivery is extremely personal in nature and the only time it can happen is drawing ever closer by the minute.

Thirty-four year old Juanita Suggs, a recently widowed mother of four, a woman who until today has never even driven a car, sits ready to do the unthinkable. Nita as her friends call her is a smallish woman, standing just less than five feet tall and weighing around one hundred twenty pounds soaking wet. Her once jet black hair has earned a little gray in recent months, ‘it’s the price we pay for life’s ups and downs’, she thinks, and this time has definitely been a downturn. Her dark brown eyes once filled with love for her now deceased husband, are now filled with a combination of concern for her fatherless children and total disdain for the man responsible for their father’s death.

She remembers sitting motionless in the courtroom throughout the trial as year after year of his lifetime of mistakes were read. In a way she had felt sorry for him, but she had never understood that side of humanity anyway. The only thing she had ever been addicted to was her family and he had taken away the rock that family was built upon. Seeing him pay for his final mistake was the thing that has kept her going the last two months. She wishes her children could be here to see her try something new for once. They were always giving her a hard time about never doing anything new, she hadn’t even changed her hairstyle since high school.

Just this afternoon Nita had done something new though, today she took her first drink, followed by four hours of heavy drinking of beer, whiskey, and enough shots to get her blood alcohol content to an almost lethal level. Family and friends had cheered her on as she consumed drink after drink in an effort to reach the almost mystical figure. Her first taste of alcohol that day had been an eye opening shot someone called a mind eraser. When she heard the name she knew she would need it later, but as she slugged it down her memories flooded in more than ever. Now as she struggles to keep her eyes open it is hard for her to imagine the strange set of circumstances that brought her to this point.

The last time Nita had two firsts in the same day was ten years earlier as she lay in a hospital bed with her husband by her side. That was a happy time when her first set of twins, and first son were born, but now it seems so far away. Now just over ten years old her twins will have to live without the man that had been there in every stage of their lives, the man who kissed the cuts and scrapes, taught them to spell, and sent them to their rooms for arguing. Her other two daughter’s memories of their father will be a bit different, her oldest barely a teenager remembers it all, the youngest barely four will have nothing but pictures to remember him by. Nita feels life has been unfair to her kids and it is time to fix that!

Outside the cab of the truck she hears voices, but no one can be seen, maybe the ghosts of the desert are playing tricks with her mind. Maybe it is all a dream, maybe this isn’t happening at all. She had played this scene in her mind so many times over the past few weeks, wondering how her husband Jim had felt the night he lost his life. She knew nothing could truly tell her what his last thoughts might have been but somehow, knowing Jim, they were of his loving family at home. Jim’s emotions would have been split between knowing he led a decent full life, and wishing he could be there for the important dates in his children’s lives like graduations, weddings and grandchildren.

As she was loaded into the truck, a shiny behemoth with an extra four tons of steel added to the front bumper, she had seen the headlights of another vehicle over a mile away. In the scantily lit desert night it seemed to be just a few hundred feet, but having been here on many occasions she knew if that car were moving it wouldn’t be here for over a minute. She wondered to herself what was happening with the distant lights, as she was given a crash helmet and strapped into the seat like a professional race car driver. Soon enough, she thought, those questions would be answered, and then her thoughts drifted away to her dear departed husband and the closure that would soon be hers.

Jim Suggs was the love of her life, not her first boyfriend, but the one who stole her heart with a quick wink to an awkward young high school sophomore new to a school far from where she had grown up. Being with Jim was easy. He was home-schooled and didn’t run with any of the crowds she couldn’t get into. He was smart and confident. Not being with the in-crowd didn’t faze him. Jim was a lone wolf! It really didn’t hurt that he was gorgeous, almost six foot two, very athletically built, golden hair and amazing bright green eyes. It’s no wonder she let herself get swept away. She knew within the first month he was the one she would spend a lifetime with, and would give her own life for if need be.

On the day their first child was born the big guy broke down and cried tears of joy as they lay the baby on her chest. She remembered him saying, Most men wish for a boy, I just wished for you to be the mother and make it through safely. That one sentence hung with her all these years. Through four children the one thing she always held on to was the fact that Jim wanted her to be the mother of his children, and he always wanted them safe. Somewhere in the stars, she thought, Jim is watching and making sure she’s safe tonight as well, she wishes she could have been there watching over him.

At a site a short distance away sits Myron Walker, a fifty-five year old career truck driver with a serious drinking problem. Tonight he will retire for good. Tonight he is sober. He had his last drink over 2 months ago, that night was also his last behind the wheel before tonight. It had begun as most, driving a barstool in some local joint waiting for the sun to go down to begin his trip. He remembers leaving the bar and climbing into his truck and he remembers the desert stretching out before his headlights, an endless sea of grass, sand and cactus. He remembers jackrabbits along the highway like opposing armies ready for battle, and mice scrambling back and forth like scouts checking the enemy lines.

This night is different for him, as always he is in the driver’s seat, and as usual he isn’t in total control. Tonight he is in a four-wheeler, a 1989 Acura Legend, his five foot six inch and two hundred sixty-five pound frame stuffed awkwardly behind the wheel. The car seems eerily familiar, like something he had seen before, but he shakes it off feeling it to be something from drunken dreams past. He knew this would be the last time he drove this car, and he knew why, but he couldn’t help but wonder why things had to be this way, why couldn’t he stop the drinking, why didn’t he realize that his brain was not equipped like some to handle the responsibilities of driving after having a few drinks? Most of all, why couldn’t he quit after just a few drinks, was a couple of shots worth losing his job, losing his truck, losing it all?

In the distance Myron hears the diesel engine of the Peterbilt come to life, he had heard this same engine before; it was his. Even in his sober state, at a distance of over a mile, he knew how she sounded, somehow he could even smell the exhaust, Running a little rich tonight, Betsy, must be the high altitude desert air. he said. Within a few seconds, without touching anything, the engine in the Acura starts as well. Suddenly in a blinding flash the highway becomes as bright as day, and through the glare of the windshield he can see thousands of people lining the highway. Myron Walker too, wonders what strange set of events led him to this place, but his answers come almost immediately.

A young man with a video camera walks slowly past the front bumper of the car, keeping the lens pointed constantly toward Myron’s face behind the wheel. The crowd cheers as the engine revs up and down. Cardboard signs are everywhere in the crowd like a high school football game or professional wrestling match. The only one he sees that really catches his eye says simply, ‘Happy Retirement’! How unfeeling! he speaks the first thought to enter his head, Seems like everyone is here for the party but I really don’t feel like the guest of honor. Loudspeakers along the highway crackle and pop, then the announcement commences.

Ladies and gentlemen welcome to Justice, I am Judge Brett Smith. Tonight we bring you the story of two men, justice, and restitution for a young widow. Two months ago on this stretch of highway, at a little less than ten minutes from now, Jim Suggs, a young loving father of four was on his way home from a long evening of working to support his family. Jim’s children and loving wife were the driving force in his life, the thread that kept him tied to reality. Little did he know that only a few miles up the road was a man with such a different life, driving was the only force in his life, not only had he nothing to lose, few would notice if he were gone. His children had hardly known their father, and his wife passed away long ago.

Jim Suggs was an aerospace engineer, long hours were nothing new, but his weekends were family time, and he was headed home to his wife Juanita, his young son and three beautiful daughters. They were all snuggled in bed knowing that with the first light of morning Daddy would be there and their time would begin, none could imagine anything different. Every weekend started the same, Mommy cooking breakfast tacos for the family as her mother always had, Daddy grasping the last few seconds of sleep before hustling off to an unscripted play date with the family, children in various stages of readiness trying hard to keep the noise down until breakfast is ready and Daddy wakes up.

Jim Suggs trip from work that night had started like any other Friday, as he left work he stopped to laugh and joke with a few co-workers, most trying to persuade him to join them for a quick beer. It was all a joke to them, they loved Jim like a brother, but everyone knew he didn’t drink, he didn’t need to, Jim was the most fun person in any room even sober. After having a few laughs Jim Suggs excused himself knowing it would take almost two hours to get home and the later he left the longer he would try to sleep in the morning. With four young children at home the possibility of that was zero, and he wouldn’t want it any other way. So he hurried out the gate and up this desert highway.

As Jim reached this point of the highway his thoughts were of his family, that was the weekend his twins would turn 10 years old, a grand birthday party was planned and his parents would be flying in for the first time since moving to Florida to retire. Jim’s parents were another driving force in his life, they were artists and both stayed home and taught him there. His grades and test scores were perfect and helped to get him into one of the best colleges in the country. His wife had elected to home-school their children as well in hopes that they would follow in his footsteps. His oldest was almost fourteen, and was the equivalent of a high school senior but he hoped she would wait for college.

So many great plans for that weekend were wiped out by the scene you are about to witness, a scene our viewers at home may not want the children to see. We will now take a short commercial break and rejoin the action as things begin to progress, please take this time to remove small children from the room. When we return we would like everyone to think of how many times in your past things of this nature might have happened to you, had it not been for good fortune? Please remember, as you watch, that bad things happen to good people as well, it’s not an accident, karma or fate it is carelessness and negligence and anyone can get caught in its trap. We’ll be back!

In a small studio behind the 9th District Court in Dallas, Texas, the man who has just addressed the nation on this sultry summer night briefly stands. How long is this break? he asks the producer, Bill Poore, he sees beyond the bank of monitors.

Bill leans his bulky frame between the monitors, and his green eyes shine in the reflected light. It will be about four minutes Brett. You need more I can have them wait to move the vehicles. the producer replies.

I need a restroom break, but it won’t take that long. says Judge Brett Smith as he walks away quickly toward his private chambers.

I know he’s got to be tired. The producer says as he turns to the cameraman. I only put in about ten hours a day but he has paperwork to go through and cases to try, and he has another producer to answer to as well.

Within a few moments the judge rushes back into the room, Are we rolling yet? he asks as he drops haphazardly into his desk chair.

Not quite Brett you still have about two minutes, maybe a little more. The producer replies as he continues to talk over details of the camera angles with the remote crew in the desert.

You know I am glad it’s the weekend, my workload doesn’t really decrease that much but I don’t have to try cases and that gives me some family time. If this were Monday I would have to be up by nine o’clock in the morning for that gossip show. The judge responds.

Hate to say it Brett, but they are recording that show for later broadcast. Your segment won’t actually be shot on Monday; it’s one of your busiest days.

They have arranged to tape it tomorrow at eleven o’clock in the morning. That should give you six hours to catch some sleep on the plane on the way to NYC. We will leave from here immediately after the broadcast. There is a private jet waiting at DFW for us. The same jet will wait for you at the airport there and bring you back. The only things we have scheduled for tomorrow are planning for future shows and one quick trial broadcast but you are not the presiding judge in that case. We can actually take the case files on the plane for you to review on the way back. That should leave some time for you to spend with the family. The good thing is Sunday your schedule is clear. The producer finished speaking just as the last commercial is coming to a close.

Here we go again! Judge Brett responds.

The Peterbilt slowly lurches forward along the highway near Las Cruces. Juanita Suggs watches as the scenery and people she had just become used to outside the truck fade in the mirrors. The truck shifts gears startling her somewhat, and it steers itself slowly into a slight curve, as with every ride she had taken with Jim, someone else controlled the vehicle. She can feel everything the truck is doing, shifting, swaying, lurching; all things she had never felt when Jim drove, he was a good driver. Nita began to feel motion sickness for the first time since she was little, something she quickly attributed to having been chauffeured by the man of her dreams for half her life.

As the diesel gains speed her mind drifts back just one month to a day in court in Las Cruces. She remembers her thoughts as an older man sat on the stand answering questions about the night Jim died. I’ve done it a million times she remembers him saying of driving in the condition she is in now, she can’t see how. She also remembers him saying, If they thought I was drunk they should’ve stopped serving me! how anyone could have the audacity to blame their actions and choices on someone else seemed absurd. His final argument that his parents and his environment caused his problems caused her to feel sick, they hadn’t caused her problems; he had.

Up the road the Acura begins to advance as well, Myron Walker hardly notices the movement as his thoughts have drifted into memories of so many nights as a lonely career trucker spent in strange bars drinking away the rigors of life on the road. His childhood had been spent on the road as well, his father was career military, his mother moved the kids from base to base within the states, and when his dad was overseas they always stayed with different family members. Even his marriage seemed to be a comedy of movement from one state to another, always in search of a better job. Moving just seemed to be in his blood, driving a truck seemed like the perfect job for him.

Most trucking companies had so many rules he couldn’t live by, and it was always easier to get home if you lived close to a terminal. Every time Myron changed jobs he changed houses, it must have been a hundred houses by now. He left his wife and kids at about number twenty-three he thinks. Yet he still remembers the sounds and smells of every one of them, it’s been a long time since he smelled breakfast tacos cooking on a Saturday morning, unless he was passing a fast-food joint on his way to drop a load. He draws a deep breath straining for the smell of chorizo, but instead his nostrils recognize the smell of the New Mexico desert outside just as the loudspeakers roar to life once more.

Welcome back America, as you see before you justice is being served to you tonight from Las Cruces, New Mexico. The participants are on their way. At 2:10 AM on April 11, 2015, Jim Suggs drove this stretch of highway in a twenty-six year old car his parents had given him as a teenager, this car had carried him to college, it drove him on his honeymoon, and brought each of his newborn children home from the hospital. Five days a week for the past ten years this car has taken Jim Suggs to work near El Paso, Texas, and back to his home outside of Las Cruces. This car had carried Jim and his family everywhere in his adult life, and even carried him to his death.

Unlike Jim Suggs, the car could be rebuilt, and as you witness here tonight it was. The Acura Legend driving west in front of you is Jim’s baby. At the wheel is Jim’s killer, a once drunken professional truck driver by the name of Myron Walker. Myron Walker who once drove the streets and highways of our nation in a eighty-thousand pound missile full of auto parts, six nights a week, fourteen hours a night, mostly drunk. He showed no regard for the life or wellbeing of those around him, he treated them like his long estranged family; with total disdain and contempt. His compassion for his fellow man had faded from view like the last light on a moonless night. Tonight he rides sober for the first time in years.

Myron Walker has had a long and storied career as a truck driver, over the past thirty years this fifty-five year old has been fired from over forty jobs due to allegations of drinking and driving. In 1996 his license was suspended for six months due to his only verifiable Driving While Intoxicated arrest and conviction. He sought out trucking companies with lax off duty drinking policies, and quit as many as sixty jobs due to policy changes regarding alcohol. Mr. Walker went so far as to almost quit driving a truck due to changes in driving regulations brought about by FMCS2010 over the past few years. Unfortunately he found ways around those regulations and wound up here tonight.

Heading east is the truck once driven by Myron Walker, fully loaded as it was the last time he drove it. Tonight, at the wheel is Juanita Suggs, Jim’s widow, mother of four. For Mrs. Suggs protection, four tons of plate steel has been added to the front bumper, and additional plates have been added to the undercarriage to keep the truck from rolling over as well. Extra reinforcing beams have been added to the cab and a five point racing harness has been added to keep her secure. Juanita, like Mr. Walker months ago, has an almost lethal blood alcohol content. Myron Walker, being a professional truck driver at the time was actually at more than four times his once legal limit.

To insure the chain of events happen as they did two months ago, investigators painstakingly measured and re-measured every inch of highway for two miles in each direction. The vehicles tonight will follow those exact paths, and all other conditions have been duplicated to the best of our ability. Looking at where these vehicles started it’s hard to imagine they were just over four miles apart. The desert has a way of making things appear closer even in the daylight. Due to this phenomenon we have chosen to take the reigns of both vehicles ourselves. We know this surprises none of our dedicated followers, our viewers demand justice and we strive for perfection.

These vehicles are computer controlled to exactly duplicate the actions of that night, the actions that killed Jim Suggs. As always barriers are in place and medical personnel are on the scene to make sure no innocent bystanders are hurt. In the event Mr. Walker survives the initial carrying out of the sentencing, medical personnel are barred from treating his injuries until the same amount of time has expired as first responders took to reach this crash on the night Jim Suggs lost his life, for that in itself is justice. If after that time Mr. Walker is alive, all efforts will be made to provide him with whatever medical treatment is required to assure his survival, even if he is left in a vegetative state indefinitely.

Now, Myron Walker, you have been sentenced to restitution, for that is The Commandment. Know that your story will serve as a warning and a reminder that those who cannot handle the responsibility of drinking, and choose to endanger those around them, will be brought to justice. From this moment on your legacy will be one revisited a million times in books and classrooms across the country as what not to do, and how not to act in today’s society. Responsibility for ones actions and true accountability is the nature of the new law of the land, restitution for what our actions cost others will be paid with interest to either our victims or their families. So Myron Walker, pay Juanita Suggs!

As the speed of the truck nears 75MPH Juanita feels the truck begin to swerve across the center stripe, and then back to her lane. The newly acquired feeling of drunkenness only intensifies her unwavering anticipation of the events soon to transpire in the road ahead. Faces in the crowd begin to blur into a sea of color, as she struggles to keep from vomiting into her helmet. She tries to focus on the headlights ahead through the unfamiliar glow of spotlights along this piece of desert highway she had ridden down so many times this late at night. Flashes of Jim’s face go through her mind, memories of things that were, dreams of things that might have been, hopes that this was still a dream in itself.

Juanita Suggs, from this moment forward closure will surely be yours, most of the wrongs against you will be righted. We the citizens of the United States of America are sorry that we cannot bring your husband back, but know that for as long as you live you will have the pay that would have been earned by both your husband and Myron Walker, and that he has repaid Jim’s life with his own, in the exact same manner as Jim lost his, and you are there to witness, from his vantage point. Embrace justice and feel its wrath as Myron Walker pays the ultimate price of restitution for his crimes, and know in your heart this is a good deed done for all mankind.

Through the glare she finally recognizes the outline of the car she had occupied the passenger seat of since before her eighteenth birthday. The sleek black 1989 Acura perfectly maintaining its lane seemed almost in slow motion compared to the now violently weaving big rig she was strapped into. It seemed so peaceful, just like when Jim was driving, she could remember falling asleep to the hum of the highway on many long family trips. Just last Christmas they had taken a trip to see family on the east coast she remembered, Jim was the only one awake but there were no worries, he would never let anything happen to his family. One last pass across the line and suddenly the impact feels as if a bomb has been set off under the tractor.

Nita feels the front of the truck leave the ground, and thinks she can feel the front wheels bounce off the bumper of Jim’s car, but maybe it was just her imagination. In the small round convex mirror on the driver’s door she notices a strange flash of light from the ground below, then something breaks the mirror and it is gone. She’s glad to have the five point harness holding her to the seat as the rear tractor wheels make contact with Jim’s car and violently shake the front end back toward the desert floor, but that feeling and the desert view leave again as the landing gear of the trailer make contact and once again point the windshield toward the sky.

For what seems like eternity she can feel the truck leave the ground; eighty thousand pounds of diesel powered missile flying through the desert night air, then it settles back to earth as gently as a glider touching down, and comes to a stop in the middle of the highway. The big diesel engine takes one last breath and shuts down as effortlessly as it had started. The desert falls silent for a few seconds; only the faint sound of the night wind whistling through a vent hole in the cab can be heard. Outside, through the windows, is visible only a huge cloud of dust whipped by the wind through the spotlights. The sweet smell of antifreeze fills the cab as steam rolls across the hood of the dusty red monster she has just flown.

Before Juanita can gather her thoughts about what had just happened, the door of the Peterbilt is flung open, two attendants step in to take her seat belts off, and as they remove her helmet; she hears one exclaim, He’s still alive!

Jim? she hears herself ask, and then she realizes it was not, and it is not over. My husband died and his killer lives through it! she says, and then asks, Where is the justice in that? All this and the man responsible for my children losing the most loving father the world has ever known lives. If I were not the woman my husband always thought I was I would walk back there and choke the life out of him myself. She pauses for a moment then continues, Maybe I’m not that woman at all! Let me see this piece of crap that turned my life upside down!

Ma’am the other attendant says, In the past justice was blind, but The Commandment is never blind, and it’s even computer enhanced for accuracy. This man, Mr. Walker, is still in your car, and he has sustained fatal injuries almost exactly like your husband’s. In an effort to keep you from wrecking in the desert, as he did, we changed your trajectory. That kept the rear wheels of the trailer from crossing the car as his did that night. But rest assured he will die from this. We have done this hundreds of times all over the country, the technology is new but the results are almost 100% accurate. If it killed the victim the first time, it’ll do it again almost every time, we only have problems with things like gunshots and stabbings, we have less control there.

Juanita Suggs steps from the Peterbilt and looks a few hundred feet back down the highway she has just traveled. There in the road is what remains of her family’s car. She can see its vital fluids running across the road in the spotlight. It resembles a metal cockroach with its life blood squashed out by the cowboy boot of God. From the rear it looks like so many pictures imprinted in her mind of the night just two months earlier. She slowly begins the first unassisted stagger of her life. The crowd begins to cheer as she feels the sweet sensation of victory in defense of her deceased husband. Her staggered gait gains both speed and purpose as she grows ever nearer her destination.

As she makes her way toward the car, the crowd begins to call her name, she pauses for just a second, then pumps her fist in the air and says, This one was for you Jim!

The crowd erupts in a chant, Jim, Jim, Jim…

She once again thinks of just what she will say to the dying man in the driver’s seat, her thirst for victory unquenchable until he draws his last breath. The car lies just yards from her now, and she sees medical personnel watching patiently as the seconds tick away until they can try to perform some life saving miracle on the man who killed her beloved Jim. She pauses again and wishes for a moment her children could be here to speak their minds as well, but no. Once again she starts for the car as the loudspeaker cuts through the chant.

Ladies and Gentlemen, medical staff has pronounced Myron Walker retired from trucking as of 2:15AM Saturday, June 17, 2015. This drunken terrorist with forty tons of ammunition will no longer haunt the highways and byways of America looking for another victim of his mindless rampage. His days of reckless abandon are behind him and our nation can sleep a little safer tonight. I know Juanita Suggs will sleep better knowing the man responsible for the death of her husband, father of her children, will no longer be running the roads those children travel. I’m sure somewhere her husband is applauding her efforts just as much as the live audience here in the desert.

Myron Walker leaves behind a dog named Smokey, and two adult children, Mary and Rose, he hasn’t spoken to in 15 years. He was preceded in retirement by both of his parents, Carl and Margaret Walker due to natural causes, and his ex-wife, Jean, due to complications of alcoholism. His employer offers their condolences to his survivors, as well as the survivors of Jim Suggs, in this, their hour of restitution. Myron Walker asked to be buried in his home town of Akron, Ohio, but did not have the money to pay for shipping charges, his former employer has denied delivery, and therefore he will be buried in an unmarked grave in Las Cruces, New Mexico.

Juanita finally reaches the car as the medical staff begins to remove what is left of Myron Walker from the front and back seats of her Acura. She pauses to look one last time at the man she had faced in court only a month before. Wiping a tear from her eye she says, That was for Jim, but this is for me, closure has finally come, and justice is served! She once again turns to the crowd, slowly a smile appears on her lips, and she waves to a camera. Kids, don’t worry, Mommy is alright and these fine gentlemen have agreed to bring me home. Now it is time for us to heal, I think we’ll visit Grandma and Gramps in Florida for a few weeks. As she leaves the site of the crash her stagger fades and for the first time in two months she feels liberated.

There you have it folks, another perfect story of justice well served, The Commandment has ruled in favor of the plaintiff. The swift sword of justice has fallen on the head of yet another violator, and his wayward jaunt through life has ended as it should. The time for weeping has ended as well, and as Juanita Suggs just pointed out to her children, the time of healing and rejoicing in life has begun. Restitution has been started, the debt of life paid, and funds have been set up by the insurance and trucking companies to make sure the Suggs family hardship is over. The only thing we couldn’t correct here is the loss of a father, but preventing this from happening again is why we’re here.

Carelessness and negligence have always been hailed as no excuse for not adhering to the laws of this land; that has not changed and never will. The law of the