The Dead Body and Local Social Politics

We'll probably never know quite what the young man said before he jumped out of the car and was killed. The driver, Jim,  a local man who has an incredibly good siding business, never knew either. Jim was drunker than any one should be, and doesn't recall hearing the man ask to get out of the car. All Jim ever knew was that the next day, the man he had been partying with was dead and Jim was on his way to jail.

I came across the police barricade on the highway the morning someone found the body.  I was about to turn left toward our church some twenty-three miles away. We were late as usual, but this time I would have to stop to wait for pictures to be taken of the crime scene. A body lay in the road, covered by a gray blanket.  I didn't know at the time if there had been an accident, but the fact that no smashed cars were around seem ominous.  So I bravely headed down a dirt road in the general direction of church, only to find myself at the end of a dead end. By the time I had returned, I was muttering words you shouldn't say while on your way to church, the body was gone, and two state officers were left, standing beside the road talking.

Little by little the people around the town began to talk. One woman, who works at the local convenience store where I get my highly addictive coffee, knew the dead man, had gone to school with him. More than that, she knew his parents, and they were grieving. She shared about his partying, how he was often doing meth or coke, how hurt his folks were by his behavior. And now this. He was their only son.

Soon the gossip turned to fact as the newspaper carried the first real details. The driver had not realized his passanger had jumped from the vehicle, which was why he hadn't stopped to help the "friend" before the victim died of severe brain trauma.  No, there was no sign of intent to murder.  And then there was a plea, time behind bars, and the driver began to try to get his life back.

Now comes the dilemma. The woman in the convenience shop is angry at the driver, furious that he got to go on living when through sheer stupidity, the other guy died.  Anyone ordering siding work from him, as talented and inexpensive as he is, may face her disgust.  However, the driver has served his time, been in jail, has to live with the consequences. Every day that he is alive, he has to wake up and look into the mirror at the face of a man who was responsible for the death of another. From what I have heard from a contractor who worked closely with him, Jim is acutely aware of the consequences of his actions.

I need to get new siding on my apartment and probably would want to at least get a bid from this talented siding expert, the Sinner in this story. Now this incident leaves me with more questions than answers. Should I jeapordize my good standing with others if I do hire Jim? Is there room for mercy at the table of a small town feast of life? Can I introduce the concept of forgiveness by merely using the man's skills, or is it mine to give?  In a small town, politics are important.  By merely ignoring the man, am I to blame in a small way for his loss of livliehood?  Funny how one terrible incident ripples across the fabric of our society, even for a man whose deeds were less than honorable.