Fugitives of Justice

Thank god I finally was caught and cited for doing something that I didn't do. Just think how much worse I would feel if I actually had done it, as I have done so many unfeeling and thoughtless things without being held accountable, at least not by the judicial system. I hope it all balances out and at least I can face the cacophonous chaos knowing of my innocence this dissonant time, and discontinue triggering all my neglected guilts from other bad times, sadly unforgiven spaces Failing to read bedtime stories when they could have helped Failing to feel lifetime belonging narratives when we could have healed Failing to remember physical/spiritual touch naturally anticipates kindness especially when unnaturally dispirited irreligiously anxious hurts can be warmly healed before coldly sealed. I sometimes confuse reasonable yet distracted undeliberated unchosen human error with deliberately choosing full-willed intent to proactively and/or reactively harm with victimizing owies, trauma, deepening paths toward future anxious risks of loss where past anticipated opportunities for gain once lived with love's lighter expectations. And sometimes our retributive justice system further fuels this confused miscommunication when distracted irresponsible irrational irreligious disengaged human error feels like deliberate victimization followed by high risk evasive dis-communication far outweighing positive, far less time and money invested, opportunities to act in a more socially acceptable spirit of cooperation by exercising a basic Golden Rule orientation to self-with-other governance. When this happens, we evade credibility, to too quickly embrace criminalizing responsibility, perhaps due to our own overly-paranoid imaginations. Communication in economic and political life is all about mis-communication sad and mad messages and dis-communing bad messages and sending out clear, consistent, glad messages. Would any right mind, would anyone fully insured, totally sober with a pen and paper in the car, when asked by a witness to a car door ding, "You're going to leave your number on their windshield aren't you?" truly respond to that question with a "no" and then drive calmly and slowly off, leaving plenty of time for multiple communicating witnesses to get a plate number? Maybe. Maybe if he had looked at the cherry red truck and could not see damage that portended a visit for needed cosmetic repair. Then again, maybe the witness only asked this question in the silence of her own imagination or out loud but at a level of discreet volume restricted so only she and those with her could hear. After all, you don't want to confront a crazy stranger in a busy parking lot who just might need some help coping with his psychotic daughter having an ill-timed manic episode, laughing hysterically while blasting Ella Fitzgerald singing "Love For Sale" across the medical center's parking lot right? Or wrong? Or maybe something discommunicative in between? Who are the victims here and is there even one that could not have been made stronger and healthier with and by a peaceful spirit of cooperation? Thereby making it even more likely that next time, next place, next cherry red truck, next victims of life's little transitional challenges will feel relationships better, rather than critically complex miscommunication and neuro-dislogical discommuning trauma worse.