When A Motorist Pays For Endangering A Cyclist

As I've recounted in several (too many!) posts, cyclists are struck, or even killed, by motorists--and not much happens to the motorist.  If anything, the motorist is given tea and sympathy, and the cyclist is blamed for his or her own misfortune, even if the motorist was clearly violating the law. 

What does it take to hold a lawless driver to account?

I think the answer might have just come from San Antonio, Texas:  when the cyclist in question is a police officer on patrol.  

On the evening of 29 June, two San Antonio officers were patrolling the area around Cattleman's Square on bicycles.  They noticed a vehicle that made a turn without signaling and followed it until it stopped a few blocks later.  

One of the officers walked up to the driver, 22-year-old Jonathan Ray Martinez, and asked him to identify himself as the other officer parked his bicycle in front of the car Martinez was driving.  

Jonathan Ray Martinez

The officer who parked his bike noticed that Martinez was reaching into the center console and looked nervous.  Believing that Martinez might attack, he reached into the car to grab Martinez's hands.  He couldn't get a hold, and Martinez started to drive away.

The officer's arm was hit, and his bicycle was run over.  Another officer, in a car, started to chase, but lost, Martinez.  San Antonio police, however,  were able to link him to the incident through the license plate.  

Martinez was charged with aggravated assault on a public servant and was booked on an unrelated assault warrant.  His bail totaled $57,000.

Although I sometimes complain about the way police officers treat us, I am glad that the officer who tried to stop Martinez wasn't more seriously injured, and that Martinez is being punished for endangering a cyclist's life with a deadly weapon (his car).  But the cynic (or realist?) in me says that he would have gotten off with a lighter penalty had the person on the bicycle not been a police officer.

Tito Bradshaw: Keeping Up His Memory, And Work

Every community needs to memorialize its heroes, advocates, champions and friends.  In that way, we in the cycling community are no different.

We're not (at least here in the US) yet at the point of having monuments, buildings, streets, plazas or even corners named after bicycling advocates.  But we may be moving in that direction, if in small ways and a few locations.

One of those locales is San Antonio--specifically, the University of Texas campus in that city.  There, an old information booth has been turned into the Tito Bradshaw Bicycle Repair Shop.

Tito Bradshaw/. Photo by Scott Ball.

Now, the fact that a campus structure has been re-purposed as a bicycle repair shop shows us that the bicycling community has some sort of presence at the school.  Just as important, the fact that it's been named after Tito Bradshaw means that at least some people within that community--and at least a few outside it--know about his work as an activist and the owner of Bottom Bracket Bicycle Shop.

Plans to convert the booth into a repair shop were already in the works when, in May, he was struck and killed by an intoxicated  driver while riding his bicycle.  He was only 35 years old.  Now, we can hope, his work and community spirit will continue--and expand.

Cyclists on bridge memorialize Tito Bradshaw. Photo by Bonnie Arbitter.

Who And What We Need

When I was writing for a newspaper, a law enforcement official told me, off-record, that there are instances in which bodies are found but investigations aren't conducted. Or, said investigations are begun but lead nowhere quickly.   Then the bodies end up in a potter's field, donated for medical research, cremated--or simply, in the words of that official, "disappeared".  

The reason, he said, is the same as what probably caused those bodies to end up where they were found:   "Nobody knows them," he explained.  "And nobody will miss them."

I am thinking about that encounter, many years past, in light of writing about Alan Snel a few days ago.  Two months ago, as he was cycling down Old Dixie Highway in Florida when a motorist drove straight into his back.  Now he is moving back to Nevada, where he had lived and worked before arriving in the Sunshine State.   In his open letter to Governor Rick Scott, he wrote, "you and the political leaders just don't care enough to do anything to keep cyclists alive in your state."  

"Care" is, I now realize, the key word.  As articulate and energetic as Alan is, and as numerous as we (cyclists) may be, there is only so much we can accomplish if we don't have other people--whether or not they are cyclists--who care.  

My experiences as a transgender woman have taught me as much.  Lesbians, gay men, bisexuals, transgenders and others who don't fit into traditional notions about sexual and gender identity, by ourselves, are much more vulnerable to bigotry and violence when we are seen as the exceptions and the freaks--in other words, when other people cannot, or do not, see us as one of them.  And, people start to understand that we are as worthy of the same rights as they have when we are their sisters, brothers, parents, friends and colleagues.  

The same is true of cyclists, I believe.  Too often, we are seen as renegades or as members of some "over-privileged" group.  Or, people who don't ride think our lives are less valuable because we, for whatever reasons, aren't driving instead of pedaling.  On more than one occasion, I've heard people say, in essence, that the cyclist "had it coming" to him or her when he or she was struck or run down by a car or truck.

At such moments, we--cyclists--are an abstraction or bogeymen, and the word "cyclist" becomes an epithet.  That is because we are not seen as writers, teachers, engineers, carpenters or other professionals or tradespeople--or business people--who happen to ride bikes.  And we are also not thought of as someone's sibling or mother or father.

It's a lot easier to blame a victim you don't know anything about.  But when the person who's hit or run down is a loved one, finger-pointing and excuse-making just won't do.  Instead, you want answers.



Who?  How?  Why?  Those are the questions Jessica Martinez is asking, I imagine.  Police in San Antonio, Texas found her gravely injured father, Santiago Castillo, on the side of a street on the city's East Side.  Skid marks on the scene indicate that Castillo and his bicycle were dragged as much as 50 yards and a surveillance video from a nearby home show that two vehicles, including a dark SUV, struck him.

What makes this incident particularly egregious is that, according to the neighbor, one of the drivers stopped--to remove Castillo's bicycle from his car.  "So they had enough time to get [the bicycle] out of the bumper," said Linda Garcia, another relative of Castillo.  "But they didn't have enough time to wait there with him."  He lay on the street, at the intersection of Denver and Piedmont, until police arrived and he was rushed to the hospital.

Santiago Castillo, a 61-year-old father, died half an hour later.

I don't know whether Linda Garcia or Jessica Martinez ride, or have ever ridden, bicycles.  But someone they love has been killed by a hit-and-run driver.  He was a cyclist.  And they want answers.