For
those of us who live in the Portland Metro area, the story is familiar. At approximately 8:00PM, last October, two
young girls were playing in a pile of leaves at the side of a street. ‘Leaf pick-up’ was to be the following
morning. Cinthya Garcia-Cisneros, 18
years of age at the time, on a lark, drove through the pile of leaves on her
way home. Anna Dieter-Eckerdt, age 6,
was pronounced dead at the scene. Her
stepsister, Abigail Robinson, died later at a local hospital. It was a tragedy.
Cinthya
knew she had hit something, perhaps a rock she thought or hoped; but continued
to her residence. She undoubtedly
suspected something untoward. Her
younger brother rode his bike back to the scene, saw that the two young girls
were severely injured, and then rode home to inform his sister, Cinthya.
Cinthya
and her boyfriend (who had also been in the car) did not return to the accident
scene and report their possible involvement.
And, in fact, they made some efforts to conceal their responsibility
including running their car through a car wash.
Cinthya was later identified by law enforcement and arrested. She has now been convicted on two counts of ‘felony
hit and run’ and as an illegal immigrant (brought to the US by her parents at
age 4) is facing possible deportation.
The
reason this case struck home with me, as I’m sure it has with many others, was
due to my recollection of my own youth.
At 17 or 18, I did some really stupid things, often more dangerous and
ill-conceived than driving through a pile of leaves along a street. But, I was lucky. Generally speaking, no one was
seriously hurt by my actions, including me.
Nonetheless, I asked myself: What would you do if you had encountered the
same circumstances faced by Cinthya?
First
off, driving through the pile of leaves, I could see me doing the very same
thing, at 18, especially if trying to impress a girlfriend. However, when I was made aware of the
injuries, the similarities tend to evaporate at that point. I would have talked to my parents, and they,
I’m sure, would have told me to return to the scene, or taken me to the scene,
and had me face the consequences. If
they were not available, I honestly believe I would have returned on my own. But, I must admit, I was not facing the
insecurities and trepidation of being an ‘illegal’ in the country.
I
can recall an incident when I was about 7 or 8.
We lived in a somewhat dilapidated rented house in the middle of an
orchard. I had no friends nearby. Down the drive, about 50 yards, there was a two-lane
paved highway. It seemed like a good
idea to a very bored young boy; but I was ‘skipping’ rocks in front of cars –
as I hid on the edge of the orchard. One
rock was a little too close to a speeding car.
It bounced up and cracked the windshield.
The car slammed on his brakes. I
ran as fast as I could back to the house, told my mother briefly I had done
something terribly wrong and hid in the clothes hamper in my parents’
bedroom. The driver came to the door,
told my mother what happened, and advised that a young boy ran in the direction
of our house.
Mom looked at the car. She then, to my deep gratitude at the time, lied
for me. She said that young kids often
played in the orchard and that no young boy lived at their house. The driver left angry, but apparently did not
call the sheriff’s office – as he should have probably done. No one was injured, but it could have been so
much worse. I got a good scolding.
Did
my mother do the right thing? Probably
not. Did she later doubt herself? My guess is yes. She was angry, but never, to my knowledge, said anything to my dad.
Was she, also, frightened by the
confrontation involving an irate man? I
believed at the time that she was. Being
a somewhat normal young boy, I did not learn the negative lesson that lying is
the way to deal with bad circumstances.
I did learn a lesson that actions often have consequences and that I was
responsible for my actions. I felt
guilty that my mother had to lie on my behalf.
More importantly, to my young mind, I hated the idea that she had been
frightened over something that I had done.
I never put her in that position again.
Cinthya’s
actions were naïve and stupid. There was
no possibility that she would remain undiscovered. After all, she lived in the
neighborhood. It was an accident no
doubt. All she needed to do was return
to the scene. Consequences there would
be, but not criminal charges.
Will
she be deported? I doubt it. Does she deserve to be deported? I don’t think so.
However, the
question remains: Why were two
young girls playing in a pile of leaves, along a street, after dark?
True
Nelson