Detour to Murder

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The California Institution for Men at Chino was forty miles from my office in Downey, almost an hour away. But today, a fenderbender on the Pomona Freeway had traffic snarled, causing me to be late. Southern California was in the midst of one of the periodic droughts that plagued the basin since the beginning of time. Less than normal winter snowfall in the High Sierras to the north meant for a parched summer and autumn in the south. Couple that with a hot Santa Ana wind that blew in from the desert and about ten million normally compliant people turned into mad demons who drove their cars on the battlefield of L.A.’s freeways like raging predators seeking to devour their prey.

On days like today, dire conservation warnings flooded the airways, restaurants quit serving a glass of water with your meal, and you could be arrested for watering your lawn. Don’t even think about washing your car, you’d be shot on sight.

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