I
have no intention of making this about guns. Although I will say, it would have been hard to kill Reeva
Steenkamp (may she rest in peace), especially by accident, if Oscar Pistorius
had been protecting himself from intruders with a knife or, say, the cricket
bat he used to bash down the door after the shooting. Of course, I'm well
aware that a knife or a cricket bat does one little good in the face of an
intruder with a 9mm of his own. Like I said, I have no intention of
making this about guns. Although I will also say, Pistorius should
probably have had a license for the one he had. In this case, he would have been able to get one anyway.
I
also have no intention of making this about doping. Although I will say,
this year has been rough in terms of fallen heroes. I think the basic
lesson there is: even heroes are human. Or is it…humans need steroids to
become heroes? I’m not sure. I don't mean to compare Lance Armstrong to
Oscar Pistorius. While their
stories might share commonalities, the cases at hand are totally different in
terms of almost everything – the crime, intent, motive, scale, victims,
consequences -- even in terms of doping itself. Really everything except
that they are indeed both human and that humans do make mistakes.
I
also have no intention of making this about the facts of the case.
Although I will say, the facts are important -- essential, in fact. And
if you're interested in them, go read the nine million other articles about the
facts of the case. No, this post is not about facts. It's about why I might believe Oscar
when he says: I did it by accident.
Having
been to Johannesburg and with quite a few South African friends of my own, I
can tell you that the fear of intruders there is very, very real.
Carjackings, break-ins, stabbings, robberies, and the like are all too common
in South African society. I am wont to dismiss such fears as
paranoia. Easy for me to say in the Connecticut suburbs...
I
remember when I brought my dearest South African friend home to Easton for the
first time. It was Rosh Hashanah, on a beautiful, warm September evening
just before sundown. We pulled up in the driveway in my mother's Mercedes (his
mom had one just like it) with the top down. To his surprise and (to my
surprise) his dismay, he said: "You're leaving the keys in the
car?!" I laughed. Of course I was. Top down.
Unlocked. “This is Easton,” I said
dismissively.
Five
months later in Joburg, when we were driving his mom's Mercedes (top up), it
was my turn to be surprised and dismayed. It was a beautiful, warm March
evening just before sundown. "You
just ran that light!!" I shrieked. "We don't stop at robots
here," he responded. "Carjackers." We got to the end
of his street. The armed guards allowed us to pass. He pressed a
button on the key fob to open the gate at the end of the driveway, then another
to open up the garage. Then another for the alarm, which then took a
passcode. Then he used a key to open up the iron grill on the back door,
which he then closed and locked behind us. I looked at him in
disbelief. “This is Africa,” he
said in the gravest seriousness.
So
what does all this have to do with Oscar Pistorius shooting his
girlfriend? It basically comes
down to fear. Fear – of something
real or imagined – and the panic it creates. Try to remember how frightened you felt the last time you
thought someone had broken into your house. Were those footsteps you heard? A floorboard creek downstairs? Now imagine living in a place where that kind of thing actually happens all the time. And then imagine not having any
legs. Don’t get me wrong: he might
very well have killed her on purpose.
I think we almost all hope that he didn’t. All I’m saying is: I believe there is a very real
possibility that he panicked and killed her by accident.
Let’s
also not forgot that Oscar’s mistake could ruin his career –
if not the rest of his life. Based
on what I’ve seen of him, particularly in his interview with Piers Morgan last
year, he seems like a pretty smart and altogether well adjusted guy. I think he might have foreseen the disastrous
consequences of shooting and killing his girlfriend – “accident” or not. Furthermore, no one can seem to find anyone who has anything bad to say about
the guy, except maybe a roommate of his at the Olympics who claims Oscar spent
nights yelling on the telephone.
Having dated an Olympic athlete myself, I can’t say I’m shocked to hear
that the guy is intense. I mean,
come on: it’s the Olympics for Pete’s sake.
In
the end, only time – and a serious investigation (testoster-what?) and a fair
trial (imagine) – will tell whether Oscar Pistorius is telling the truth or
some variation thereof. Or it
might not. The whole thing is a
terrible tragedy regardless of what happens from here on out. I think all there is to do now is
reserve judgment and hope for the best.
