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A lesson for us all from one woman's true compassion A lesson for us all from one woman's true compassion
(7 months later)
Patricia Machin's husband, Gerrard, spent nine weeks in hospital after he was knocked down by a car during a short walk to buy his morning newspaper.Patricia Machin's husband, Gerrard, spent nine weeks in hospital after he was knocked down by a car during a short walk to buy his morning newspaper.
He had sustained a series of injuries – multiple broken bones, damage to his lungs, an injury to the brain – and they proved to be too serious to overcome; in February of last year, he died, at the age of 77. Following his accident, he had not been able to speak, but, on some days, he had managed to write and the very first thing that he wrote was: "I want the love of a good woman."He had sustained a series of injuries – multiple broken bones, damage to his lungs, an injury to the brain – and they proved to be too serious to overcome; in February of last year, he died, at the age of 77. Following his accident, he had not been able to speak, but, on some days, he had managed to write and the very first thing that he wrote was: "I want the love of a good woman."
It was, his wife explained to the audience of Radio 5 Live last week, a reference to a shared joke, what her husband used always to say when asked: "What would you like?"It was, his wife explained to the audience of Radio 5 Live last week, a reference to a shared joke, what her husband used always to say when asked: "What would you like?"
You can imagine it as a semi-humorous, semi-soppy reply when the kettle was boiling, for example. But those who listened to the interview, or who read about Patricia Machin in newspaper reports, probably reckoned that her husband, despite the dreadful events that befell him, knew that a good woman was precisely what he had.You can imagine it as a semi-humorous, semi-soppy reply when the kettle was boiling, for example. But those who listened to the interview, or who read about Patricia Machin in newspaper reports, probably reckoned that her husband, despite the dreadful events that befell him, knew that a good woman was precisely what he had.
The other man with first-hand knowledge of Patricia Machin is Brian Williamson, the 30-year-old motorist who was found guilty of causing Gerrard Machin's death by dangerous driving; as punishment, he received a three-month prison sentence, suspended for 12 months, and was banned from driving for two years and ordered to pay £1,000 towards prosecution costs.The other man with first-hand knowledge of Patricia Machin is Brian Williamson, the 30-year-old motorist who was found guilty of causing Gerrard Machin's death by dangerous driving; as punishment, he received a three-month prison sentence, suspended for 12 months, and was banned from driving for two years and ordered to pay £1,000 towards prosecution costs.
But Mrs Machin seems to have gleaned that his real punishment would be both intangible and last far longer than anything that Bournemouth Crown Court could impose upon him.But Mrs Machin seems to have gleaned that his real punishment would be both intangible and last far longer than anything that Bournemouth Crown Court could impose upon him.
As they stood by the side of the road in the immediate aftermath of the accident, she put her arm around him and tried to reassure him. When she learned that the Crown Prosecution Service intended to bring charges against him, she wrote to them. "You say that you realise," her letter ran, "that I may be disappointed with your decision regarding the charge against Brian Williamson. I assume this to mean that you expect me to have wished for a harsher charge to have been brought against him… nothing could be further from the truth. I have never for a single second had any sort of angry or vengeful thoughts against this young man." She went on to describe her husband as "the most compassionate human being I have ever known" and to say, "with complete confidence", that he would have felt the same.As they stood by the side of the road in the immediate aftermath of the accident, she put her arm around him and tried to reassure him. When she learned that the Crown Prosecution Service intended to bring charges against him, she wrote to them. "You say that you realise," her letter ran, "that I may be disappointed with your decision regarding the charge against Brian Williamson. I assume this to mean that you expect me to have wished for a harsher charge to have been brought against him… nothing could be further from the truth. I have never for a single second had any sort of angry or vengeful thoughts against this young man." She went on to describe her husband as "the most compassionate human being I have ever known" and to say, "with complete confidence", that he would have felt the same.
And, perhaps even more strikingly, she referred to "this episode in our lives; Gerrard's, mine and Brian Williamson's". It's a turn of phrase that is mildly wrongfooting. Really, you think, can she be including this man, who has killed her husband, in the words "our lives"? Can she really be writing him into her and her husband's story, instead of trying to expunge all trace of him?And, perhaps even more strikingly, she referred to "this episode in our lives; Gerrard's, mine and Brian Williamson's". It's a turn of phrase that is mildly wrongfooting. Really, you think, can she be including this man, who has killed her husband, in the words "our lives"? Can she really be writing him into her and her husband's story, instead of trying to expunge all trace of him?
Apparently so, for Machin also wrote to Williamson ahead of his sentencing, lending him her support and urging him to promise that he would get on with the rest of his life. Elsewhere, she explained her thoughts and feeling in various ways: asking which of us hasn't made a mistake, pointing out that he is somebody's son and that he will have to live with Mr Machin's death for the rest of his life. Throughout, she portrays them as fellow victims.Apparently so, for Machin also wrote to Williamson ahead of his sentencing, lending him her support and urging him to promise that he would get on with the rest of his life. Elsewhere, she explained her thoughts and feeling in various ways: asking which of us hasn't made a mistake, pointing out that he is somebody's son and that he will have to live with Mr Machin's death for the rest of his life. Throughout, she portrays them as fellow victims.
"On that day, we were just two people cast into a nightmare," she told 5 Live's listeners."On that day, we were just two people cast into a nightmare," she told 5 Live's listeners.
When we read about this story, our immediate sympathy is with Patricia Machin and, of course, her husband. But do we also, I wonder, imagine ourselves even more readily in Brian Williamson's predicament? It is, indeed, a nightmarish prospect – but not an outlandish one. What if, as Williamson explained had happened to him, I was dazzled by something? Or what if I just took a corner too fast, succumbed to impatience or irritation or lateness and put my foot down or just got lost in my thoughts for a few seconds?When we read about this story, our immediate sympathy is with Patricia Machin and, of course, her husband. But do we also, I wonder, imagine ourselves even more readily in Brian Williamson's predicament? It is, indeed, a nightmarish prospect – but not an outlandish one. What if, as Williamson explained had happened to him, I was dazzled by something? Or what if I just took a corner too fast, succumbed to impatience or irritation or lateness and put my foot down or just got lost in my thoughts for a few seconds?
Then you think: what do I mean – what if? I have done all those things. And there is the truth, in front of you: you don't have to be doing a ton down the motorway or off your head on gin to kill someone. You don't have to be driving a car at all. Your carelessness could occur in some completely other context, undreamt of by you, now, sitting here, not having killed anyone.Then you think: what do I mean – what if? I have done all those things. And there is the truth, in front of you: you don't have to be doing a ton down the motorway or off your head on gin to kill someone. You don't have to be driving a car at all. Your carelessness could occur in some completely other context, undreamt of by you, now, sitting here, not having killed anyone.
Patricia Machin's reaction to her situation appears to have come to her swiftly and unquestioningly, almost unbidden. It would be unrealistic to expect everyone to have such a highly developed sense of empathy; even, perhaps, undesirable. Most of us, after all, would probably struggle not to feel anger and might also wish for some form of vengeance or, at the least, reparation. If those feelings are natural, at once an expression of our profound attachment to our loved ones and our innate sense that those responsible for wrongdoing must be held to account, isn't it sensible to give them free rein and unwise to suppress them?Patricia Machin's reaction to her situation appears to have come to her swiftly and unquestioningly, almost unbidden. It would be unrealistic to expect everyone to have such a highly developed sense of empathy; even, perhaps, undesirable. Most of us, after all, would probably struggle not to feel anger and might also wish for some form of vengeance or, at the least, reparation. If those feelings are natural, at once an expression of our profound attachment to our loved ones and our innate sense that those responsible for wrongdoing must be held to account, isn't it sensible to give them free rein and unwise to suppress them?
Up to a point; but Mrs Machin's actions suggest that she is all too aware that there are no reparations that can be made. They also indicate that, despite a closeness to her husband to which she referred repeatedly and utterly convincingly, she sees herself, and Brian Williamson, as part of a true social network; "He is someone's son," she said, of her wish for him not to be sent to prison.Up to a point; but Mrs Machin's actions suggest that she is all too aware that there are no reparations that can be made. They also indicate that, despite a closeness to her husband to which she referred repeatedly and utterly convincingly, she sees herself, and Brian Williamson, as part of a true social network; "He is someone's son," she said, of her wish for him not to be sent to prison.
We might be excused for not following the recent proceedings in Bournemouth Crown Court; other arenas of justice have been somewhat more in the news.We might be excused for not following the recent proceedings in Bournemouth Crown Court; other arenas of justice have been somewhat more in the news.
In one, a jury was, apparently, foxed by a tale of marital coercion and obscured truth, but what caught the imagination was the possibility that a drama of retribution was being played out; that we were watching the very opposite of forgiveness. In the other, in which all we know for certain and for now is that a young woman has met a violent death, even a moment of attention or concern towards the man in the dock risks provoking accusations that we are losing sight of the real victim.In one, a jury was, apparently, foxed by a tale of marital coercion and obscured truth, but what caught the imagination was the possibility that a drama of retribution was being played out; that we were watching the very opposite of forgiveness. In the other, in which all we know for certain and for now is that a young woman has met a violent death, even a moment of attention or concern towards the man in the dock risks provoking accusations that we are losing sight of the real victim.
What happened to the Machins and to Brian Williamson was horribly, irrevocably accidental, and fundamentally dissimilar to cases where malice or malfeasance have taken place. We cannot, and should not, forgive all that we suffer. But in a culture that becomes more Manichaean by the day, that is increasingly prone to denunciation, to opposition, to demands for apologies and amends, we might check our rush to judgment. For where, as Mrs Machin has so movingly demonstrated, does it actually get us?What happened to the Machins and to Brian Williamson was horribly, irrevocably accidental, and fundamentally dissimilar to cases where malice or malfeasance have taken place. We cannot, and should not, forgive all that we suffer. But in a culture that becomes more Manichaean by the day, that is increasingly prone to denunciation, to opposition, to demands for apologies and amends, we might check our rush to judgment. For where, as Mrs Machin has so movingly demonstrated, does it actually get us?
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