By Marc J. Elzenbeck
On Monday, February 10th on Wax Orchard, the road was still dark at 6:47 AM. Something had knocked over a big Murrey’s blue bin near 249th, plastic and metal recycling was blocking southbound lane. I steered around and my kid said, “If you ran over that, it might’ve popped a tire.”
A half-mile further down, a dog was sitting on the west berm just past the Nashi Orchards gate. He was still as a statue, a large cream-colored shepherd or Maremma type. Fixated east, not a glance to us. In the headlights, I could see that his right ear was cocked upward. I wanted to blame him for mayhem, but have never before seen a dog behave like that. Rather than causing trouble, he seemed to have a thought bubble above his head: “I’m Watching.” I frowned and slowed down.
Just as my full attention turned back ahead, a man walked directly in front of our car. No hand motions, no warning. Staring right at us. I braked and steered left to avoid him, but he increased stride out into our path as we came to a full stop atop the double yellow lines, less than 10 feet to spare. He was in his 20s, average build, fit. I did not detect hostility in his countenance as he walked up to my window. If anything, his only expression was no expression. What shrinks would call a lack of affect.
With the spilled recycling, my mind had filled in that a big dog might’ve done it, and our interloper had a different big dog with him. Presumably trying to round it up, so my instinct was to be helpful. In the four seconds available to assess, however, my morning brain was starting to catch up. A man had been standing alone in the dark. He advanced to recklessly block our vehicle. A sentinel’s alerting behavior about 100 yards to the north had likely saved his life.
As his face and figure started looming over my window without greeting, I stopped lowering it. Added factors were: transporting my kid to school; our own dog in the back seat, a moment away from barking next to my left ear; and we were parked in the middle of a dark, well-traveled road.
There was no visible weapon, but his demeanor was both aggressive and strange. I turned the wheel a quarter to the right and flexed the gas pedal, thinking to pull over. Our confronter then screamed “FOGGGGGK!” and punched the side mirror so hard it sounded like a shot. I kept going.
Then came a barrage of questions from an adrenaline-amped teen. Why would someone do that? Should we call the cops? Will you take a different way back? I said it wasn’t the first time something similar had happened. No, not the same. Similar. I’d head back to check after the ferry.
I don’t know for a fact if this was the same individual who later that day would hold his family, who happen to live close to that overturned recycling bin, hostage and threaten to kill them. Who would shoot his stepfather and household appliances, attracting 15 police vehicles plus a sniper-equipped helicopter to the Island.
It also may not be the same person who, allegedly out partying the night before, hit a lucky pull-tab at one of the few local businesses that sell them, then was said to remark, “I’ll go to rehab tomorrow!” Who may not have bought a bad batch of drugs with the winnings, haranguing other drivers on the same road the next day, supposedly at times with a pistol. These might all be different actors tied together by hearsay, thin coincidence or a tough band tour.
My focus is practical: What if I’m confronted with this situation again? What are my responsibilities and rights? Where do the former end, the latter begin? Even in hindsight, I’m not sure how proper my actions were. Surely I’ve enjoyed the rights and privileges of driving, and have written a few Loop articles about it. What if I’d been going 10 mph faster, the posted speed limit, and killed a mentally ill man? Curiosity on these questions is leading to some interesting places, and when they solidify, will be back with a Part Two. For now I’ll close with the “Similar.”
If you go to see a concert in downtown Seattle, after it lets out and you drive back that night, the odds are pretty good someone will walk right in front of your vehicle. With or without first looking. Those odds are so good now that I’ve seen it happen three times on one drive. These people were all suffering from some stage of mental challenge, and were also under the effects of heavy, ongoing substance abuse.
When you drive on certain streets in Seattle you’ve got to be ready for this at all times. I just wasn’t expecting it on Wax Orchard Road. Thank you, fortunate sheep dog.
