Perception and Truth

 

 

What is the true distance between perception and truth?  I have had many conversations with people that I was attempting to explain something and the other person would say “yeah I know what you mean”. Then they would give an example of theirs to prove that they understood what I was saying and it was not even close to the point I was trying to prove. I look at them like did you hear a word I said or are you just so wrapped up in your example/answer that you can not wait for me to shut up to share it. Sometimes I will even go as far as trying to make what I really meant more clearly. I look at their eyes and you can see that they are already thinking of the next answer/example to give in return. I am sure that I am just a guilty or worse as the next guy at doing this very thing. Loading my answer before the other person has a chance to finish the complete thought. Pending on the setting and person I will attempt to make point clear even after multiple failures. Sometimes I feel that I must be speaking a completely different language.  It makes me wonder how watered down the truth really gets in the newspapers, Television news, or any other situation that involves one person explaining something they had no part of and sometimes could not understand themselves.

 

Writing this reminds me one the time a 17-year-old kid was shot and killed across the street from my house. It was crazy to stand and see all the confusion going around. Whose life was senselessly taken? Why was it taken? Would I ever know why? How close did I come to that happening to me? How many times was I that close?

 

I first noticed something was going on with the flashes of red was painting the room I just left five minutes prior. An ambulance pulled up and they went behind a red car parked in front of the house. On of the paramedics slowly walked back to the ambulance with no sense of urgency and grabbed a white blanket and walked back to the car and covered something. The neighbors stood around speculating who, what and when everything happened with great confusion. Was it the young man that lived at the house that has recently been a slight nuisance to the area?

 

When friends and family started to show up the confusion and pain intensified. Then a small pickup truck pulled up to the flashing red light and confusion. An older gentleman came out and the intensity skyrocketed as he shouted hysterically about his time he spent in the military and specifically Vietnam for everyone to have freedom and now his son has been taken from him senselessly. It was then that the identity of the expired body was known. You could see mixed relief in the eyes in the other families now that the identity was now known. It was not their brother, their son or their friend. I watched the red lights flashing slowly across the face of the father, amplifying the true horror and pain of the situation that only he could feel the rest of us were just voluntary passengers of this emotional rollercoaster. I could not stop the images of this man being my father and the expired body being mine. A child could never imagine the love a parent has for them. I could feel the love this man had for his son.

 

The surreal atmosphere continued to be thick with pain and confusion. The flashing blood red lights painting the blackness of the night like a beacon of pain. The family held the sobbing father back. Time slowly passed with each tear that they spent in front of people they have never met. The vision of this being my own family becomes more real as each moment passes. In all the sadness and loss, I am grateful for luck being on my side to this date.

 

What makes my luck even more relevant to this young child loosing his life was the fact that I was just standing in front of the curtain-less window. I could not see out of the window, but you could definitely see in the window. If I wouldn’t have had an unexpected urge to use the restroom at that moment, I would have been standing directly in the window but could not have seen what happened. They would have been able to see me though. I could only imagine what could have happened if I was there and they thought I saw what happened and who did it. They killed one why not two? I never heard a thing. I had the radio on in one of the back rooms while I was working on the house. When I went to the restroom the radio was in the room directly across from where I was.

 

In all the pain I reflected back on that and felt relief that luck touched me. Then I would her the loud moans and sobbing from the family and my relief was stopped back to sorrow for this family.  Eventually the body was loaded in the ambulance and driven away, the family left and the red lights stopped screaming for attention.

The reason this story came to mind is the news covered the story and said it was a botched robbery were they got away with a small amount of money and a pack of cigarettes. My stepdaughter went to school the following Monday and found out the real story. The young man that lost his life had turned in two brothers to the police for stealing cars. They were released from jail that day and took revenge on this young man. What makes the story even more saddening a buddy of his called him for a favor to take him to the house across the street from my house. The young man really did not want to but was talked into doing it with the condition that he was not staying he would just drop him off there. What he did not know was the two brothers were following him in another car. Once he arrive his buddy ordered him out of the car and when he refused his buddy pulled a gun on him and demanded that he get out. He complied. He got out and stood up and one of the two brothers put a shotgun in his chest and pulled the trigger and then ran.

 

To my knowledge the news or newspaper never released the true story. I asked my stepdaughter if the family knew the true story and if not that someone should tell them. The thought of him dying for small change and a pack of cigarettes over what really happened that he did the right thing and turned them in is a huge difference. Not that it would have made the pain less. Maybe it would have been easier to the parents that they raised their son right and he died doing the right thing not being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

 

After reliving this night in my head, I think of the importance of the truth being relayed and heard, not the perception of what one thinks happened or the perception of how they interpret the information that was provided to them.

 

  Written by Lanis Johnson        

  Friday, August 31, 2001 5:54:00 PM