I was cut off and became the victim of a hit-and-run while riding my yellow Ducati 900SS motorcycle home from work the Saturday before Halloween last year, (on) October 28, 2006.
Upon what appeared to be a drunk driver swerving into the lane immediately ahead of me and "hard-braking" upon hearing my horn, my evasive maneuvers proved no match for pure physics. Bearing no license plate and only recognizable by a shoe-polished rear window, the driver quickly fled as my bike and body collided with the vehicle, totaling my own as it slid over 100 yards; much of which as it ran alongside the late Ford-Tempo looking automobile as I lay in the street, sliding and tumbling for only a mere 50 yards or so myself.
Dressed in a bright yellow helmet, yellow leather (armored) jacket, and armored riding boots, I still took quite a beating against the harsh brutalities of the road on my highly-visible (yet now long-gone) love. In fact, my knees were the only "unprotected" part(s) of my body, and both appeared to be broken with the swelling and "road-burn" inflicted on them while portraying a rag doll in the rear view of the unidentifiable driver who paid no mind.
As he was already going about 15 mph in a 35 mph zone, which was the primary reason I decided to (attempt to) pass, he continued to slow and move to the right after obvious contact and injury had been made. Just as it appeared he would slow to a stop and pull over to help, he drove off, turning into a corner convenience store/gas station without a second thought as I lay there in the street, rested on my knees; my vehicle just coming to a stop far ahead of me, pointing and signaling for help to follow and identify the assailant.
No one did.
The first vehicle immediately succeeding me slowed in a rubber-necking fashion, having been the benefactor of the best view of the crash, so as to get a good look at my condition; as it continued to drive straight ahead and disappear into the night. Lucky enough, the second, third and many other concerned drivers witnessing the event stopped to call 911, provide aid, and remove me to the side of the road away from imminent traffic threats.
As I was taken to the hospital's trauma unit via ambulance, many witnesses stayed behind to provide information to the police officer who first arrived on-scene. Though I would luckily walk out of the hospital on my own power (along with the help of 10 mg of liquid morphine) 4-5 hours later without a broken bone in my body, the injuries I suffered internally would later prove to be life-sustaining (in my upper and lower back and knees). The trouble arose when I picked up the accident report a few days later, only to find that the officer didn't obtain a single witness' name, statement, or contact information to corroborate my story. My own insurance company, the one with the gecko, would provide only the MedPay coverage ($2,000) I paid for on my premium, but refused to communicate with me or open the $100,000 Uninsured Motorist Policy Coverage my premium covered as well.
As a result of the officer's laziness, the accident report reflected minimal damage to my vehicle, an incorrect statement (from me) regarding the incident, and suggested I was at fault.
But, a break had occurred: around 5 a.m., fading in and out of consciousness (as a passenger, of course) on the way home from the hospital, nearly 5 hours after the accident, I spotted the suspect vehicle parked in the lot it had previously entered upon fleeing the scene. Upon contacting the police, the same officer arrived, to conclude (with visual confirmation, paint transferred from the car onto my helmet, damage indicators, and subsequently photographs) that this was, in fact the assailant's vehicle. After completing his quick investigation, he promised to visit the address of the owner (as indicated on the expired, temporary permit in the window) the following day. Nearly a month later, upon contacting the authorities, I discovered what I'd learned about the case being closed and an investigation never being conducted.
While transferred to the Hit & Run division and speaking to an investigative officer, I gave the details and information regarding the case and the fact that the perpetrator had now obtained at least a month-long head start. This first officer informed me he was on 'light duty' himself, and had some personal matters of his own he had been attending to. After another few weeks had passed, we were making some progress. He had gone to the last known address of the owner of the vehicle believed to be involved in the accident (we still weren't 100% sure), where he was told that the woman who owned it had moved out and mysteriously disappeared; an attempt to keep her child from her boyfriend in a custody dispute. Now gone, and the car proving difficult to find, it seemed we were at a dead end. My bills were stacking up, and a few creditors had begun 'collection' against me for things like MRI's, E.R. visit 'readings', and my portion of the co-pay and deductible costs. My insurance company claimed to have done all it was capable of without another party to pursue or another driver (or witnesses to corroborate, for that matter) to authenticate an Uninsured Motorist Claim. In a word, I was screwed.
Then came a sudden change in direction. I had called the investigative officer and found he would be gone for about two months, out on medical leave. Another officer would ultimately taking his place, and as a result, I would be starting over.
Enter Officer Michael Harris.
What this man could do for law enforcement is beyond words. If all the police and city officials took to heart and embraced this city's crime like this man did my particular case, I'm convinced we'd be living in Utopia. Within roughly three weeks of receiving, reviewing and working my file, he had closed it: signed, sealed, delivered. And I mean delivered.
A special thank-you to Officer Harris, who without his fine detective work I'd still (and would forever) be lost in the system's bureaucracy. Not only did he locate the missing vehicle, track down it's history, put out alerts with friends and family of the (female) owner, and discover (through her own admission) it had been involved in a hit & run (Corroborating my story!), he had overdone himself; found the boyfriend (involved in the custody battle) and got a confession that he was driving the car on the night of the accident. Apparently, without license and uninsured, and (for whatever reason) after side-swiping a motorcyclist into a potentially fatal accident, he figured his best option was to run in the event I was dead on the roadway (so as to avoid charges and imprisonment). What a guy, huh?
While Officer Harris' fine work rendered 7 citations to the driver, he would never cop to being drunk at the time. In his words, the car was experiencing "mechanical failure"... yet somehow I doubt so much as the driver was.
In conclusion, to have successfully confronted the man and simply ask what had happened with the vehicle's involvement was purely genius; the driver didn't have to confess and without it, I'd be nowhere.
No; either Officer Harris pretended to have information he didn't (to encourage the driver to admit it for the sake of a merciful sentence), or whether it was admitted as a result of a guilty conscience, I'll never know... but the Unsung Hero(es) are the witnesses who called 911 the night of the accident, getting me immediate medical treatment and ultimately coming through as witnesses.
What finally got my U.M. Policy cracked and opened so I could receive (and be compensated for) treatment was not only the confession by the driver, but the gentleman who actually dialed the number for help. You see, when Officer Harris contacted him, he admitted to having a blocked view of the accident from being in the rear seat, but provided the detective with the number of his female friend who was driving (behind me), who witnessed the event in full, and gladly explained, in great and specific detail, everything I had said (nearly verbatim) to Mr. Harris.
It was with this testimony that my insurance company felt opening my U.M. Policy was so easy, that even THEY could do it. Now I'm able to have some peace and continue my treatment as needed. And as to whether or not I'll ever be the same, I just don't know; but I've already forgiven and hold no grudge against the woman or her boyfriend driver who could have killed me that night.... because life's just too long to be miserable.
A Very Special Thanks go out to Officer Hoyt for his care, Officer Harris for his impeccable diligence in hammering out my case, and the following heroes who saved my insurance claim (and my faith in humanity) with their care, assistance and 911 call: Good Samaritans and the Golden Rule prevail again. I owe you all dearly.
Kenneth/Cody Simmons, KC Simmons; Ashley Wittle; and Kristen (?) - May God Bless and Keep Each of You.
Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for your time and dedication in my time of need.
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