October 24th marked the one year anniversary of the death of David Sherman. As life’s irony often plays out, it also marked the birthday of Sherman’s killer, Grayson Dawson, who ran him over while he was cycling on a crisp, autumn afternoon.

Dawson was convicted (if you call a negotiated plea bargain a conviction,) and will report to prison on November 15. She will serve a little over a year for her charges. Hardly seems just, but I don’t know that our judicial system is calibrated for justice these days. I think we may occasionally punish and in extreme situations of internal regret, we may prompt rehabilitation, but rarely can we find or even decide what might look and feel like this thing called justice.

I didn’t know Sherman. We were in Spin classes together and perhaps our road bikes crossed routes, but it would not be truthful to claim Dave as friend. He was a close friend of my neighbors and to hear him described makes me wish I had known him, that kindred connection of getting on a bike and pedaling away grown-up stress, replacing it with the wind in your face abandon of kid on a Christmas morning ten-speed tends to bind people together.

I went to Dawson’s sentencing to support my neighbors, Dave’s family, and because I am a cyclist who deeply believes that awareness and laws need to shift for all of us to drive, ride, run, walk, and skate on our roads safely and peacefully. “Share the road,” as the slogan says.

As the facts unfolded and the statements from the NC Highway Patrol were read by the prosecution, the cold, unavoidable truth unveiled; Dawson crossed the center line, veered over into the on-coming lane and hit Dave Sherman. She then made a u-turn, returned to the scene, u-turned again, and fled leaving a fatally injured cyclist and his mangled bicycle on the roadside.

At Dawson’s sentencing, Dave’s family and friends spoke passionately of a husband, father, brother, friend, Godparent … lost. His wife stood and with beautiful poise read about the college sweetheart that became her life partner. Coming from a place that has to be called grace, she eloquently spoke of their lives … lived and unlived. What more was there for her to say? Nothing can undo the already done. Nothing can right the already wrong. Nothing can bring Dave back.

While Dawson’s defense attorney, Bubba Matlock, offered a litany of excuses and reasons to include but not limited to the medical problems with her anus (I am not making this up,) the unavoidable message that kept playing in subliminal stereo is that Dawson fled the scene to save herself. The laws support leaving the scene, especially if you are under the influence of a dozen or so prescription drugs for your anal issues. I can only conclude that Dawson was only worried about the pain (suffered or to be suffered) when her own ass was on the line.

Of all her negligence, leaving the scene is without comprehension. Structured sentencing gives her 14 – 17 months. The October 24, 2010, front page of the News & Record gives her an image of a repentant victim living in a daily hell, portraying a sad, regretful woman, back dropped by a sober and contemplative photograph, (omitting that she wasn’t any of these things when she hit and killed Dave.)

The article attempts to conjure compassion and pity for Dawson who didn’t celebrate her own birthday because of the torment she feels about what happened a year ago. Sorry, N&R, but you failed Dave’s family, friends, and your reading community by honoring and giving valuable newspaper type-space to Dawson, a cause empty of worth.  

In my opinion, the true transgression of the News & Record article and this whole tragic tale can be summarized by the paper’s careless emphasis on Dawson’s sacrifice … a birthday celebration celibacy to punish herself for causing Dave’s death.  Such a minor detail in the scheme of things but consider this, over time, over the years that pass after Dawson walks away from her short prison stint and gets on with her life, after the dust settles and the ghost bike that marks the spot where Dawson took Dave down begins to rust, know that Dawson can pick up her fork and help herself to birthday cake in the years that follow.

She can choose nothing at all for self-inflicted punishment or German Chocolate. She can choose Italian Cream or Pumpkin Spice. She can choose Mocha with Butterscotch or Strawberry with Sprinkles. Dawson has access to the flavors of the living. Dawson gets to choose. Dave gave up all of his birthdays and the birthdays of everyone he knew and loved … without any choice at all.