Darcy Alan Sheppard was killed in the confrontation with Michael Bryant, but he was murdered by the people of Ontario.

Bryant was charged with only lesser charges. And the case never went to court. The prosecutor saw “no reasonable prospect of conviction”, citing, among other things, reports of other confrontations involving Sheppard. I am not a lawyer; even if I were, I do recognize that, objectively, I can neither agree nor disagree with him: I simply do not know all the details.

But I did watch, and read, the coverage of the accident, and the public’s responses to it. And it was appalling! To begin with, I did expect that the court of public opinion would rule in favour of Bryant. But, the ugliness of it all took me by surprise! They were practically gloating over how good Bryant’s defence would be. They were treating this not as a case of overwhelming might against a vulnerable cyclist, but of a dispute of equals!

The CBC ran a swap-places experiment, having a bike courier and a driver courier trade places for a day. It was lame, offensive and evasive.

The tone of the reports was often reassuring–that Bryant would walk! A criminal lawyer, interviewed on TV, said that Bryant will be freed of all charges. And he said this before Bryant’s lawyer was even identified. The interviewee’s tone was reassuring, which is exactly what the reporter was seeking. In other words, there was no sense of outrage: the reporter was seeking reassurance that the driver will be fine, that such a bright, shining star’s life will not be spoiled by the deserving death of some street scum.

The finger of blame was consistently pointed at the cyclist. Not one did I see pointed at Bryant. Whereas, in any other situation, the public would love to jump on the fall from grace of a politician, they identitfied with the driver. It was a good example of tyranny of the majority. Cyclists die by collective consensus.

The victim was subjected to character assassination. It was the second killing of Darcy Alan Sheppard. The lesson is clear: when you get run over to death, make sure you’ve lived a perfect life.

How dare they bike on our roads!

This is the attitude that many North American drivers have towards cyclists — as if it is their roads, and that we are some pesky annoyance who has somehow happened upon what is rightfully theirs. It is how the Aussies must have felt when they landed in Australia, and found the aboriginies. It must be how the Europeans felt when they saw Native Americans. That Darcy Allan Sheppard was a Metis is exquisite, in this regard.

There but for the grace of god, go I; some punk cyclist getting himself killed under my wheels. I could almost hear the average Ontarian thinking this to himself. This is why the media had to reassure them that all will be well, that the real victim (Michael Bryant) will go free.

I am repelled by violence. But, biking thousands upon thousands of miles in many North American cities, dealing with the threats to, and disregard for, my life and limbs; the sense of entitlement; a money-based legal system; and urban planning fundamentally centred around cars, I often found myself fearing that–short of oil depletion–the only justice for cyclists is through a large-calibre gun! As far as society is concerned, a cyclist’s life is cheap.