18-Self-Defense: Two Different Places Two Different Outcomes

18-Self-Defense:

Two Different Places, Two Different Outcomes

Recently in Sanford Florida, a legally defined man killed a legally defined child by reason of self-defense. The elder asserted the younger hammered his head into bare concrete and pummeled his face with MMA position and precision. The attacker not only assaulted him, but reached for the kill; the boy eyed the gun (let's be clear, not the boy's gun, but the self-appointed watchman's weapon).

The armed-advantage afforded our couch-potato hero the nerve to stalk a hooded, young, black man in the rain, the gall to profile a figure in the dark (let's be clear here too because we can't legally call the profiling racial), the brass-spheres to blatantly ignore law-enforcement's legal instruction to cease pursuit, the deadly arrogance to leave his car in order to engage, and once things did not go his way, the choice to pull his sidearm and fire, pointblank.

Why? Apparently by his successful interpretation of the law, he was endowed with god-like attributes: protector of society, disseminator of truth, judge of intention, and executioner of innocence. The younger man demanded the right to be free from unlawful pursuit by drawing a line in the sand around his private space – a route home, safe from lurking, stalking homicidal do-gooders, hungry for the accolades of righteous battle. After debate, the law granted the older the right to end the life of the younger simply because he felt threatened by the drawing of that line.

There is only one reason he followed, intimidated, confronted, and challenged the young man: his concealed handgun. Think for a moment: what would've happened if both, upon approach, knew this fact? For the man with the bullets, initial contact did not go as planned. The consequences of his own creation exceeded his acceptance. So, he changed the game.

Of course, this all started innocently enough when he was minding his own business, looking for a street sign in a neighborhood under his “watch,” and was ambushed (get this) from behind the bush. That seems like a lot of extra bushes. All those cop classes apparently didn't teach him that under interrogation liars tend to provide an array of unsolicited details.

The story, legally if not logically, held-up; the older gentleman is free to come and go as he pleases while the younger gentleman goes no more. But let's be real, the elder will not be left unscathed. Whatever level of ego drove him to act as though he knew better than the professionals will not suffice despite his acquittal. This singular moment of comic-book glory has purchased a life of well-advised obscurity. If he ever wants to remove that Kevlar vest, he must become, not an anti-hero (god-forbid), but the opposite of a hero, the opposite of what he intended to be that night. He must become a nothing, a civilian, an average Joe, or in this case, George. He must embrace what might be most difficult for him: don't be prejudice or nosy, and when the time comes, take it like a man.

We'll see.

Recently in Brazil, a young soccer referee (Octavio da Silva, 20) died after killing an older player (Josenir dos Santos, 30). There is nothing legal about this incident but only primal, mob justice. In many ways, this story is the opposite of Florida. The youth used force in defense of the elder's advances and final resolution did not take months of process and procedure but an instant of action. After the young ref gave the older player a red card and attempted to eject him from the game, things escalated.

As with Mr. Martin, it seems youth was determined to exert its rightful independence and thereby stir the self-righteous indignation of its elder. Why? Because, by the rules of the game, a ref. is endowed with god-like attributes: the calling of infractions, the ejecting of players, and the telling of the game's story. Refs. are the arbiter of time, space, and reality. When the clock is running, the referee's word is the final word.

But the man would not accept the boy's authority. Like George, Octavio used deadly force once he felt physically threatened. What words and violent gestures lead to the young man using the knife? Only the past knows because they are both gone. Unlike George's advanced weapon and advanced fate, this boy's crude weapon left him to face an ironically crude fate.

The crowd quickly turned on the indignant, ill-mannered upstart. A shower of stone set his body upon the ground. A hoard of thick vehemence rushed from the beyond the bounds. A fury of anger, blood, and rage severed each limb. Finally, the only way to satisfy the group was the thought of a head, stuck to a post in the middle of the pitch. The jury was vast; the trial, instant; the verdict, inhumane. In brevity and brutality, the fate of old George cannot compare to young Octavio. But in the end, will the chronic disease be worse than the acute disaster?

Again, we'll see.