Stormy Days

I have been bouncing from case to case like a ping pong ball. Winter is a busy season for Private Investigators. Much of my income comes from personal injury and locates, with an occasional round of crisis management inbetween.

I have often thought Private Investigators are crisis managers in disguise. Because we come in -- between the doctors and the attorneys -- when the injury /assault/incident is new and the victim is still trying to process it. Our job is to gather the evidence, get the details, lend ear and pen to pain and suffering. Private Investigators are the eyes and ears of the attorney in the field.

The Pacific Northwest has been hit by three big storms in row.
I head out next into the third one to investigate some accidents that may or may not have happened because of the rain.

Rain is always a factor to consider... the water turns freeway concrete into a slippery slope of oil and grease. Cars and trucks have faulty equipment... from wiper blades to brakes. Driving on the wet freeway is like dancing in a minefield.

Adding insult to injury is the fact that many truck drivers are forced to drive fleet trucks not maintained properly because they are afraid of losing their jobs when their complaints fall on deaf...or angry...ears.

Owners of trucking companies are stuck between a rock and a hard place -- faced with increases in gas and all costs are barely able to break even, let alone replace the brakes on a fleet of trucks.

There aren't enough inspectors in the state to do all the work that must be done to inspect vehicles on the road.
So what happens is accidents.
Semis slam into the cars in front of them, metal breaks, wheels fly off, trucks jack-knife or suddenly drop on one side.
And whether you get caught up in an accident is a crapshoot.
The minute you hit the road, the odds of your safety go down.

The cell phone has also been responsible for an increase in accidents.
And the movies our kids watch, like "The Fast and The Furious," don't help.
Nor do the video games like "Grand Theft Auto."
Teenagers are especially oblivious to the possibility of their own self destruction and the threat they pose to others when they get behind the wheel.
What doesn't help is the parents who believe their kids are such good drivers. You don't become a good driver without years of experience.
Add alcohol, medications, stress to the mix and you have combustion.

So again I hit the road to see today's victims of others actions.
Every day it's a different image. I note the facts and photograph the wounds, the broken limbs, the stiched heads, the life support machine... or the the babies who need to be held by moms with blown discs and head injuries. And the families that need to be fed by a dad desperate to work who can't because of an injury on that job.

The personal injury business is very personal and the attorneys who handle the cases, the good ones, are life savers. Or better said... life restorers.

So today's diary entry will be brief. I have two cases far away, one very far to go after dark. Those are the ones I don't like to go to in storms -- they're in remote locations, where tree limbs fall on windy roads where oncoming lights blind.

Recently I saw someone in her 20's who couldn't work due to an injury and I asked her for her work address.
I said "That's close to here isn't it?"
"Yes, she replied, "Just down the street. I can walk to work."
"What a concept," I replied, "So even though your car's been hit you will still be able to get to work?"
"Yep" she said, "I'm a single mom and I live paycheck to paycheck. So I gotta' work no matter how hurt I am. That's why my mama taught me... live close to your work. That way, no matter what... you can always walk there, always get to your job on your own two feet."
I was impressed.
Especially since I usually do between 100 to 200 miles a day.

I shared this concept with my husband, a retired soldier of 14 years years. I told him what my young, hard-working client told tell me. That her whole family, all her brothers and sisters and mama, all live right next to their jobs.

"Yep... L.P.C.'s" my husband replied -- knowing, I wouldn't have a clue what he meant until I asked the next question.
"What are L.P.C.'s?"
"Leather Personnel Carriers," he said. "A soldier's boots. Same concept."

And so Dear Diary, this P.I. heads out for the day.
In L.P.C.'s... on accelerator pedal.
Last case is after dark, 5:00 in the Boondocks.
Where Lindsey Baum was was abducted.
I think I will follow this post with a link to her case.