a Short Story By S. Vincent Anthony
In the hot Florida sun of August 2025, a big rig truck roared down the Turnpike near Fort Pierce. Behind the wheel was Harjinder Singh, a 28-year-old man from India who had snuck across the border years ago. He wasn’t supposed to be driving that truck—heck, he wasn’t even supposed to be in the country. But some folks in California had given him a trucker’s license anyway, even though he flunked tests on English and road signs. His bosses at White Hawk Carriers didn’t check too hard either; they had their own bad safety record.
Harjinder was in a hurry that day. He decided to make a quick U-turn right there on the highway, cutting through a spot marked “Official Use Only.” His massive truck swung around like a wall of steel, blocking every lane. Cars zoomed toward him at 70 miles an hour. A minivan with three people inside—a mom, her brother, and a friend—didn’t have time to stop. It slammed into the truck with a deafening crash. Metal twisted, glass shattered, and in seconds, those three lives were gone. Harjinder? He walked away without a scratch. He didn’t even try to help. No tears, no sorry. He just grabbed his stuff and ran off to California, leaving the mess behind.
Word spread fast. Cops tracked him down in Sacramento and dragged him back to Florida. The judge looked at him in court and said, “No bail for you. You’re staying locked up.” Harjinder faced charges for killing those folks with his truck. But folks in town whispered, “That’s not enough. He showed no regret. He’s broken laws before—sneaking in, faking his way to a license, running away. He’s a danger. Put him to death so he can’t hurt anyone else.”
But the story didn’t stop with Harjinder. People started asking, “How did this guy get behind the wheel?” Turns out, officials at the California DMV ignored the rules and handed him that license. Federal agents gave him a work permit when they shouldn’t have. And his trucking company hired him without a second glance. These enablers—they knew better, but they let it slide. Their laziness cost three lives.
In the end, the community rose up. They demanded real justice: Execute Harjinder for his heartless crime. And for those who helped him get that truck? Lock them away for life, no chance of getting out. No more excuses about laws or systems. These people enabled a killer on the road. Make them pay, so no one else dies from the same mistakes.
The families of the dead found some peace in that fight. The Turnpike crash wasn’t just bad luck—it was a wake-up call. Justice had to be tough, or more blood would spill on the highways.