Jasmine Brockovich

Jasmine, JD rationally said, you are not going to solve this.

That’s the biggest difference between JD and me. I’m the antithesis of rationality, so when JD speaks with a level head and unclouded vision, I get annoyed with how correct he is.

I stood with my arms locked waiting to cross the intersection where JD’s accident took place. As traffic whizzed by, I scanned the intersection for a license plate, or anything that might betray the hit-and-run driver that ruined JD’s car. I cajoled JD into coming with me as I spoke with surrounding business proprietors. I spoke with the manager at Starbucks, the owner of the Mobil gas station, an ice-cream scooper at 31 Flavors, and was on my way to Quizno’s when JD tried speaking some sense to me. I wasn’t having it. Surely, I thought to myself, there had to be a camera that recorded the accident.

Early yesterday morning, I called the city police department because there were cameras perched atop the traffic lights, so there was a possibility that the driver’s license plate number was captured. No, you have to call CalTrans because they own the cameras, the police told me. No, you have to call L.A. City Works because they own the cameras, the CalTrans secretary told me. No, you have to call your city’s engineering department because they own the camera, the LACW operator told me. Yes, and the engineering department sent me to City Hall. And City Hall sent me right back to my point of origin: The police. Ooooooh, you mean those cameras, the officer sheepishly asked. At this point, I thought I would crumble the phone in the palm of my hand, but I calmly replied yes.

You see, the officer garbled into the phone, those cameras are only sensor cameras…they don’t take pictures, they determine if a car is at the intersection. I wanted to kick something.

I was on a warpath to find the drunk driver. So, when JD tried calming me down as we waited to cross the busy street, I wanted to cry. We discovered yesterday that JD’s automobile insurance wasn’t covering the accident. Why? Because his policy omits hit-and-runs. His coverage is applicable for everything else under the sun, except this type of accident.

Now, his insurance representative said over the phone, if you find the driver and he’s uninsured, then the accident will be covered.

That’s why I was standing at the intersection and that’s why I was asking nearby stores to see video footage from the accident. I needed to find the driver. Was I being unrealistic? Yes. Was I thinking unclearly? Yes. But, I rationalized, we were out of a car and had no recompense for the accident.

JD remained by my side as restaurant managers told me they didn’t have cameras and held my hand as we combed grainy video footage from the gas station, which revealed nothing.

Look, I told JD, there had to be someone that saw something…we just have to find him.
JD placed his hands on my shoulders and faced me. He said, Jasmine…you’d be the next Erin Brockovich if you kept this up, but just let it be. There’s nothing we can do anymore, so we’re just going to have to drop this search and move on, okay?

I knew he was right, but it wasn’t fair. I didn’t want to throw in the proverbial towel, but it was time. It was a jagged pill to swallow, but I did.

Later that night, we met up with a few people to watch the Lakers game. Over pizza and buffalo wings, I realized that while JD got handed the short end of the stick with the accident, things could have been worse. A lot worse. Sure, we lost his car, but at least he’s healthy. And a car can be replaced…where Jasmine Brockovich’s husband cannot ☺