Don Davey: My Life

In 82 ! owned a service station known as the B.P. Legana, my daughter “Laurie Jane” had just turned 16 and was off to a “BLUE LIGHT” disco run by the police dept, (her first dance) and I was supposed to take her, however time had got away from me and I was covered in grime and grease, so my wife “Miriam” said she would take her, even though she did not particularly like driving at night.
My other daughter Tracie who was 13 was attending to the pumps, as of this time of the evening all was very quiet, until a police car arrived, asking me to close up shop as my wife and daughter had both been killed in a motor accident adjacent to the 7L.A. tower.

It was subsequently found that the guilty party not only was “paralytic” drunk but had been estimated as driving his Valiant Charger at over 140/160 km’s an hour, and as my girls were travelling in a small Renault R12, they had no chance.

If not for a friend who took away my rifle one evening, I may well be still languishing in Risdon, which one now realises would have been catastrophic for Tracie, most especially with no immediate family, however if anyone believes that murder is not a capability of us all, don’t be fooled! it is.

I attended every day of the court session and listened whilst this bastard’s expensive attorney used every angle available in order to have his client acquitted, even though he had several previous convictions, and the upshot was that he received a couple of years and was out in less and driving once again, and on remand, he had also been heard in a Beaconsfield hotel as joking about the event! However a bunch of Biker’s called at the station on one occasion for fuel as they always did because Miriam used to take great care in not spilling fuel on their bikes and was well regarded by them all, and one stated, “LOOK! i’m going down for a stretch shortly and don’t you worry he’s going to be taken care of!”

I never did find out if that was the case as he himself developed cancer whilst inside and died, whilst I was informed that the bastard in question was sent to the relevant luxury of the Goal farm.

Now for the kicker!

Exactly one week before hand, he had called in for petrol and actually fell out of his car he was so drunk ! and I asked him for his keys and said I would call him a cab! He became violent and abusive and as he drove away, I picked up the phone to call the Exeter police in order for them to stop him, and my wife took the phone away with the comment, “don’t get involved ! we are trying to build goodwill in the business” (which we had not long before purchased) “and it will do no good”, the moral being “trust your first judgement”.

And the rest is history

After the sentence was handed down, I laid in wait outside the court room at the top, of the stairs, with the thought that at least I could get in a few lick’s, however the Police had pre-empted me and took me to a room and were very supportive, also showing their abject disgust at what had taken place. They being convinced that he would be charged with manslaughter at the very least and given the appropriate sentence, however money ! and the power of the liquor lobby came to the rescue ! with the police saying that it didn’t matter how hard they tried, the courts just would not hand down appropriate sentences for crimes committed.

Since that time I lived a solitary existence for many years, taking up the cudgel in becoming a serial letter writer VIA fax on any subject which I felt afflicted society and in spite of some obvious problems in style found that it was a source of comfort to find the letter printed, and therein lies another tale.

I don’t wish to see any comments on this story, I having presented it purely as a comment on our society from which that date it appears, in my opinion to be getting worse and worse.

d.d.