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1999 Personal Accounts
| The Darwin Awards salutes the spirit portrayed in the following personal accounts, submitted by loyal (and sometimes deceased) readers. |
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Murder in the Park
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My Papa walks his spoiled dogs every day at the Dog Park, a triangle of green bordered by the ocean, a sewage treatment facility, and a transcontinental railroad line. One day he noticed a wispy blond guy throwing rocks at a train. The next thing he knew, someone was running towards his group of dog walkers shouting "Come quick! Someone's been run over!" Sure enough, a man was lying face down on the railroad tie, moaning softly, looking OK except for a pool of blood. Looking OK except there was a railroad tie underneath his chest so you knew he couldn't be OK. So Papa hollers out, "You're gonna be all right, help is coming, it's gonna be OK." The guy was laying on the ground whimpering. Papa had to say something reassuring. Even though he could see the man was a goner. Helicopters airlifted the victim to a hospital. The first place they tried said, "We don't have the facilities to help this man." So they choppered him to a second hospital. The injured man died an hour after the incident. After the paramedics and police had been and gone, Papa looked around for the skinny blond man, but he was gone. It turned out that the deceased was a hobo who rode the trains back and forth across the country. He'd been whacked in the head with a heavy object, and knocked off the train. Everybody figured it was the blond guy, but the police didn't care enough about the tramp to investigate the murder. |
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