Last week a young gas station attendant in Maple Ridge was run over and dragged to his death by two teenagers driving a stolen car. The particulars of the case are horrifying. But aside from the tragic loss of someone, who was, by all accounts, a generous and decent person, what has bothered me about the case has been the commentary by observers who can’t get past the idea that the young man tried to prevent the teenagers from driving off without paying for $12 worth of gas. “What possessed him to try and stop them?” ask the pundits. “It was only $12.”
That they even ask that question makes me burn. Haven’t we all, at one time or another, decided that enough is enough; that even though the stakes were small we weren’t going to let some trivial thing slide? Sure, such resolves may not be wise or cautious or prudent, but in the instant that we make such decisions, we are stating that we matter in this world. A certain intolerance for bullshit is the sign of a healthy society. In my world, a gas station attendant should be able to ask a couple of kids to pay for their gas without being dragged for 16 blocks. In a civil society no one with a sense of justice or empathy would dream of suggesting otherwise.
I keep imagining myself out there that night. I’m twenty-four (a particularly hot-headed time in the life of Susan Juby), I’ve had a long night and a couple of kids come in. Maybe they are rude, maybe they push me a little too hard. And when I see them trying to drive away I make a split second decision: screw this you little turds. Maybe the money will come out of my pay cheque (I sincerely hope that wasn't the case). Maybe I don't like the idea of two very wasted kids driving. So I try to stop them. It’s something I absolutely would have done if you caught me on the wrong day.
It brings to mind the day I decided to confront some men who made a crude comment to me. I was walking down the street in my Kitsilano neighborhood when I heard someone call something after me. At first I didn’t register what the men sitting in parked sport utility vehicle had said, but when it sunk in, I was instantly filled with rage. I was already well past the parked truck, but without thinking I turned on my heel, stormed back and planted myself in front of the vehicle.
“What did you say to me?” I demanded.
The grown man in the passenger seat mumbled something about sorry. The driver turned scarlet and stared as his lap.
I walked over to the passenger door and said a few "how dare you”s and a couple of "you should be ashamed"s and so forth, and then walked away, shaking all over.
Would I do it again? Definitely not, unless I was in a very controlled environment. Lots of strange men have shouted lots of stupid things to me. Those two were the first and last ones I ever physically confronted. That day, in that circumstance, I couldn't let it slide. Yes, we should turn the other cheek and look the other way. But in a decent world no one should ask why if, once in a while, we don’t.
Grant De Patie sounds like he was a generous, spirited young man. My thoughts are with his family who deserve much better than they got from the media coverage of his death. Two drunk, high kids took his life and destroyed their own in the process. This is a tragedy. The mystery to me is not why Grant decided to stand in front of that car. The real mystery is how people can be so devoid of empathy that they would think to question why.
Rest in peace, Grant.
