San Bruno resident Sutchi Hui, 71, was visiting San Francisco when Death found him-–just before 8 a.m. on March 29, 2012.
No doubt he felt safe before he died. After all, he was walking through a crosswalk in the affluent Castro District, one of the city’s safest areas.
And it was there that bicyclist Chris Bucchere plowed into him.
Bucchere, a software engineer, was also hospitalized for injuries in the crash. Later that day, he posted his thoughts about the accident to the Mission Cycling AM Riders Google group.
“I was already way too committed to stop. The light turned red as I was cruising through the middle of the intersection and then, almost instantly, the southern crosswalk on Market and Castro filled up with people coming from both directions….so, in a nutshell, blammo.
“I couldn’t see a line through the crowd and I couldn’t stop, so I laid it down and just plowed through the crowded crosswalk in the least-populated place I could find.”
Bucchere said he lost consciousness and awoke five minutes later. Someone told him that a 71-year-old injured pedestrian had been taken to the hospital.
“I remember seeing a RIVER of blood on the asphalt, but it wasn’t mine,” Bucchere wrote. “I really hope he ends up OK.”
Bucchere dedicated the post to his helmet, which “died in heroic fashion today as my head slammed into the tarmac…. May she die knowing that because she committed the ultimate sacrifice, her rider can live on and ride on. Can I get an amen? Amen.”
An “amen” would also be in order for the cause of justice.
Although prosecuted by the San Francisco District Attorney’s Office, what Bucchere got was the following sentence: Three years of probation and 1,000 hours of community service. He would not serve any jail time.
He might as well have posted that because his helmet made “the ultimate sacrifice, her rider can live on and ride on–and kill on.”
The District Attorney’s office–which has one of the worst conviction records in the country–lost no time in congratulating itself.
“Our goal is to send a message to cyclists about safety,” D.A. George Gascon said. “Just because you are riding a bicycle doesn’t mean all bets are off. All of the rules of the road that apply to everyone else apply to you, too.”
Gascon said Hui’s family did not want to see Bucchere imprisoned. Since prosecutors didn’t expect a judge to sentence him to jail, they offered probation and community service in the plea deal.
That’s what the life of a pedestrian is worth in San Francisco.
In July, 2011, bicyclist Randolph Ang, 23, ran a red light on the Embarcadero–and slammed into 68-year-old Dionette Cherney. She later died of her injuries.
In March, 2012, Ang pleaded guilty to one misdemeanor charge of vehicular manslaughter, as part of an agreement with prosecutors.
Ang faced up to a year in county jail, but a judge sentenced him to three years’ probation and 500 hours of community service, and ordered him to pay $15,375 in restitution to the Cherney family.
According to the website of the San Francisco Bicycle Coalition:
“Pedestrians Always Have the Right of Way. In the crosswalk or not, bike riders and drivers are required to yield to pedestrians.”
“Stay on the Streets. It’s illegal and unsafe to ride on the sidewalk if you are over the age of 13.”
So much for the official version.
In reality, pedestrians risk their lives whenever they use the sidewalk–especially on tourist-crowded Market Street.
And what role do police play in enforcing the bike laws? None.
At best, a San Francisco cop might stop an law-breaking bicyclist and give him a citation. This amounts to a bicycle traffic ticket. The bike isn’t confiscated.
Most cops patrol in patrol cars. If they see a bicyclist whizzing down a sidewalk, they aren’t going to cut him off and slap handcuffs on him.
If police show no interest in protecting pedestrians, it’s largely because the Mayor and Board of Supervisors clearly favor the rights of law-breaking bicyclists over those of law-abiding pedestrians and drivers.
The greatest proof of this comes on the last Friday of every month. It’s called Critical Mass.
In this event, hundreds of bicyclists deliberately–at the height of evening rush hour–overwhelm the streets of downtown San Francisco, bringing vehicular and pedestrian traffic to a halt.
Founded in 1992 in San Francisco, the purpose of Critical Mass is not formally stated but nevertheless clear: To protest against those who use cars and public transit–and intimidate their riders and pedestrians alike.
Critical Mass riders often use a tactic known as “corking” to maintain the cohesion of the group: A few riders block traffic from side roads so that the mass can race through red lights without interruption.
Cars, buses and pedestrians are expected to wait patiently for however long these self-indulgent thugs-on-bikes flood the streets.
In March, 2010, reports in local media claimed that then-Police Chief George Gascon was considering shutting down Critical Mass.
Three years later, the bike-thuggies continue to tie up traffic and threaten the safety of any pedestrians stupid enough to think they have a legal right to stroll sidewalks and cross streets.
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GUNS + ALCOHOL = DEAD BODIES
In History, Law Enforcement, Politics, Social commentary on July 25, 2013 at 11:58 amOn July 23, North Carolina lawmakers approved a bill that allows those with concealed-carry weapons permits:
The Republican-supported bill was approved by both the House and Senate. It now heads to Republican Governor Pat McCrory, who is expected to sign it into law.
Now think:
What could possibly go wrong?
The National Rifle Association (NRA)–which backed the measure–will celebrate a return to an era “when men were men” and every argument threatened to become a shootout.
But not everyone in the Old West welcomed the indiscriminate right to carry and use firearms within town. One of those was the legendary lawman, James Butler “Wild Bill” Hickok.
Contrary to popular belief, Hickok actualy didn’t spend most of his life as a town marshal. His gunslinging days as a lawman lasted just two years–1869 to 1871.
His first stint as a lawman came at Hays City, Kansas. As sheriff, he shot and killed at least two men. One of these shootings occurred when Hickok, looking in a bar mirror, saw a ruffian named Strawhan pull a pistol to shoot him in the back.
Hickok, looking into the mirror, threw a “trick shot” over his shoulder–and nailed Strawhan dead.
Then Hickok’s luck ran out. On July 17, 1870, several members of the 7th U.S. Cavalry attacked him in Drum’s Saloon. Drawing his pistols, he killed one private and wounded another.
Although he had acted in self-defense and the shootings were entirely justifiable, Hickok now faced danger from other, enraged members of the same regiment. He decided to leave Hays before they could take their revenge.
His next posting as town marshal came in Abilene, Kansas. This stint lasted from April to December, 1871. And, like his last one as a “town-tamer,” it ended with a deadly shootout.
A major portion of his duties lay in enforcing the “no firearms worn or used in town” edict.
Abilene was a cattle town, the end of the line for many outfits seeking a major railhead where their hundreds of beeves could be dropped off and shipped eastward.
When cowboys–most of them in their teens or early 20s–reached Abilene, they wanted to celebrate. Their long drive was over, and now they could finally get paid. And there were plenty of bars and whores waiting to pick up their newly-issued monies.
This combination of randy men and ready supplies of alcohol and women often led to trouble. One cowboy might make a pass at another’s “lady” for the night. Or an argument might erupt over a card game.
It was Hickok’s duty to make sure that such arguments were settled only with fists. And that meant demanding that all cowboys’ guns be checked at the marshal’s office until the “boys” were ready to leave Abilene.
This, of course, contradicts the “open carry” demands of the NRA. And most of its members–if transported to the Old West–would find themselves on the wrong side of Hickok.
And that wasn’t a good place to be–as Texas gambler Phil Coe learned to his dismay.
Coe and Hickok had clashed before. As co-owner of the Bull’s head Saloon, Coe had advertised its wares with a sign depicting a bull with oversized sexual organs. A number of citizens raged that this was obscene and demanded that the animal’s sexuality be greatly reduced. The city fathers agreed.
Hickok stood nearby with a shotgun while a painter made the necessary deletions.
On October 5, 1871, cowboys were flooding into Abilene, looking for a good time. Coe, feeling in high spirits, decided to celebrate by firing his pistol into the air several times.
The shots quickly brought Hickok to the scene.
“Did you fire that shot?” Hickok demanded.
Coe supposedly replied: “I shot at a dog–and I’ll shoot at another.”
Coe threw a shot at Hickok, which missed.
Hickok whipped out his two revolvers and put two bullets into Coe’s stomach, mortally wounding the Texan, who died three days later.
James Butler “Wild Bill” Hickok
With Coe’s Texas buddies surrounding him, Hickok suddenly heard someone rushing at him from behind.
Hickok whirled and fired twice more–into the chest of his own deputy, Mike Williams, who had been running to his aid.
Hickok, aghast at his mistake, gently carried Williams into a saloon and placed his body onto a billiard table. Then he raged through Abilene, ordering an end to the festivities and knocking down any cowboys foolish enough to resist.
Owing to this latest explosion in violence, the city fathers quickly reached two decision:
First, they put an end to Abilene’s years as a major cattle shipping point. From now on, cattlemen were no longer welcome there.
And then they fired Hickok as city marshal in December, 1871.
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