Yes!!! EXACTLY!
Reminds me how we were just discussing over coffee that arguably we have FOUR victims here.
Naturally
Victim #1 is Reeva, all too soon deprived of life.
Alongside her are her immediate friends and family, and apparently the gazillions who never knew who she was until February 15th but join in the universal mass grieving for someone famous that is second-nature today, now that we no longer know our neighbours' names.
Then we have
Oscar himself as Victim #2.
Even if his team can prove he had no intention to kill his girlfriend, he still DID shoot her, and even if it eventually comes down to unlawfully killing a burglar, pumping four shots through a toilet door is pretty serious culpable homicide, and he's not going to get off as if it were a traffic offence.
And of course if his version is
really what happened all along and it was all a ghastly cluster***k of blunders and misunderstandings, well, he's going to have to live with that for the rest of his days, which isn't much fun.
So he's a victim, too. His entire family as well, as they are going to get raked over the coals as this goes forward, and sooner or later we'll discover it was all the fault of his relationship with his dad/uncle/sister/dog/etc. that caused this mess.
Victim #3 is South Africa itself.
"
As and aside, I have no desire any longer to ever visit SA or any part of the continent after hearing all theses stories of injustice and crime. So much for tourism and money. Before I thought it would be a wonderful place to visit, and some parts may be, as my boss' experience shows. However, I wish to take no chances on that, my luck is not so good."
21merc7's comment from earlier in the thread must have been echoed by a good many people in the wake of revelations about rampant gun crime, home invasions, shoddy policing, violence against women that goes to the very top of the political tree, widespread corruption, and heaven alone knows what else. The South African Tourist Board must be distraught: about the ONLY silver lining in any of this is that at least it happened AFTER the World Cup (and the African Cup of Nations), but in all honesty that's pretty cold comfort.
The picture presented is
NOT an attractive one, and much image-polishing will have to be done before people lose the nagging, worrying thought that perhaps the past twenty years haven't seen much change at all in South Africa.
I still stand by my earlier remark, BTW, that the enthusiasm for opposing bail might have been tempered by a worry in government circles that it could all end in still more Bad-PR tears if Pistorius wound up in a remand prison.
But what of Victim #4, and who is it?
Step forward
The Unknown Hack.
This poor journalist (
please note: he/she is completely fictitious, but just as plausible as any of the murder theories) got a great assignment in early February.
A two-day, all access, no strings interview with Oscar Pistorius as he looks towards his next move after the Olympics and Paralympics of 2012.
Wow! Fab! Kewl!
Our Journalist goes to Pretoria and then returns to the office and writes up his or her copy on February 13th, anticipating that it will get a decent "human interest" spot in the coming
Weekend Supplement.
Then, suddenly -
dingggggggg - the AP and Reuters and AFP wire-service bells start ringing and Our Journalist is rapidly called up to the Editor-in-Chief's office.
"Hello Whatsyourname, I hear you've got a full-body scan on this Oscar Pistorius girlfriend-killer madman. We're going to run it on the front page tomorrow. We'll nail the guy. I hope it's got some juicy stuff about him being a loose cannon and ready to blow at any minute...", says the Editor, with much enthusiasm.
"Err, Well...Ummm. No. I'm afraid it didn't..."
Because our man had ALL the bad luck.
He found Oscar to be utterly charming.
Oscar had an infectious and disarming sense of self-irony, was self-deprecating in the extreme about his sporting achievements: "It's those amazing guys in wheelchairs like
David Weir and
Leo-Pekka Tähti that I
really admire".
He actually cracked jokes about his legs and his blades, and seemed to have a remarkably grown-up head on his young shoulders.
Nobody, but NOBODY came up to Our Journalist and whispered that Oscar was spending too much time in bars or at the roulette table and not enough time in the gym or on the track. There was not a single whiff (or spliff) of substance abuse, and no suggestion that he was wound up like a coiled spring.
No former girlfriends sent Our Journalist SMS messages badmouthing Oscar.
And then there was the awkward business with the loss of half of that first day.
Our Journalist had got Oscar all to himself for two days, but Oscar very politely and apologetically INSISTED that he couldn't cancel a prior appointment on the Monday afternoon, and so the journo had to traipse along with him on his fortnightly visit to the children's leukaemia ward at George Mukari Hospital. As if that wasn't bad enough, one of the nurses actually broke down in floods of tears about how
nice Oscar had always been with the kids and how he never missed his visits if he wasn't abroad, and on and on...
And of course when Our Journalist drove with him to and from the hospital there was none of that rushing about at 150 mph in the wet in some
embarrassingly expensive
Top Gear McLaren supercar. Instead he chatted nicely about his family and said some unexpectedly sensible and even quite empathetic things about topics du jour, both local and international. The guy was likeable, dammit. And never
one mention of guns, fercrissakes.
And finally, finally... when Our Journalist was back at Oscar's place and wrapping things up, and the runner's mobile rang, he looked at it in mid-sentence and then said (again
very politely): "Do please excuse me, I really ought to take this, it's my girlfriend Reeva".
And as he walked out of earshot to another part of the room, Our Journalist overheard him say: "Hi darling. No, no, it's quite alright. I did say ring any time. OK. 6.30 it is then. I'll pick you up outside..."
And then Oscar came back all blushing beetroot-red and grinning and said: "Big evening tonight, off to meet the future in-laws, or well, at least I'm hoping that's what they'll be..."
Yep. No two ways about it. The entire interview was a complete and utter train-wreck from beginning to end. It would never
EVER get into print.
The editor-in-chief was furious. He had to buy some crappy 2012 article from the
New York Times and reprint it.
Our Journalist's career would be blighted for years to come - he'd end up on the Obituaries Desk - all because he failed to dig up the real Oscar Pistorius.
HE IS THE FOURTH VICTIM.
