Go with a lie, or call her on it?
At approximately 3:40pm on Thursday, January 13th, I arrived home, pulling onto the gravel strip that lined the front of the yard. There are no sidewalks on this quiet suburban avenue, and I live in a basement suite, so I get to park streetside instead of in the driveway, where the house's main family parks their three quiet suburban cars. My navy blue 2002 Cavalier sits happily, quietly, on the gravel, facing east. I can see it from the window in my living room. Sure, it's speckled with mud and road salt from the snowy roads of the past week, but other than that it's my well-tuned and happy little car.
At 8:53pm I went back out to my car to drive to my boyfriend's for a visit. On the way across the yard I had a brief chat about my Vegas trip with my landlord, who was puttering in his car's trunk in the driveway. Imagine my shock when I find a three foot long dent in in the panel behind the driver's side door of my car. The material (plastic, metal, whatever alloy it is these days) is pushed in to a depth of at least two inches at the deepest part. My baby! My new car! My first car bought by my own self ever! I ask my landlord if he heard anything, and he said no, even though he had been home all afternoon, as had I. There is no paint missing from my car and no scrape. The dent is at hip-height, not knee height. Our conclusion is that my car was backed into, not scraped along side. Only the rear quarter panel is dented, not the driver's door or even the driver's mirror has been touched. Since there is a driveway across the street exactly perpendicular to my car, I decide to go over and ask those neighbours if they know anyone with a truck who might have hit my car that afternoon.
They turn out to be very nice people. Their little malt-poo dog is sweet, too. He kisses my hand as Karen looks for her friend's phone number. Apparently their friend, Julie, was visiting that day in a large truck. She and Karen had gone to dinner, and Karen remembered telling Julie when she was clear of my car as they backed out of the driveway. In fact, Julie had just left their house and was still on their way home, so she would call my cell when she got home. They remarked how Julie must not have noticed the bump, because she was the type of person to come straight up to the house and apologize for it right then and there. I thanked them and left.
Julie calls while I'm en route, so I call her back from my boyfriend's. Her husband is a fraud investigator for the local insurance agency (government-run, so everyone uses the same company). She says that she didn't feel anything, but she does remember my car being there. She checked the truck's bumper, but no dirt was missing so she didn't think it was her. But she said her husband was shocked that she could have done it, because he knows how slowly she drives the truck. She doesn't like driving the truck, so she is extra-careful with it. She tells me her husband advises me to call the Dial-A-Claim service and get it fixed, because they will pay for it even if it's a no-fault claim. As a favour, though, her husband will look at the truck in the morning with his trained eye and give his professional opinion. I thank her and wait til morning.
Guess what? Approximately 2:30pm, January 14th, Julie leaves a message on my phone. Her husband has found no dirt missing from the truck's bumper, and no paint from my car. Too bad, so sad. She is very sorry if it was her, but since there's no proof, I might as well go put a no-fault claim in and just go ahead with repairs. Goodbye!
***
I have a problem with this. I really dislike confrontation, but I dislike dishonesty more. On Law & Order this would be an open and shut case. Draw a simple diagram of the street, the times involved, add the testimony of the concerned neighbours and my landlord, and voila! Julie accidentally backed into my car while driving a vehicle she is not comfortable with. She is afraid of her husband's opinion or how it looks, considering his occupation, and he reassures her that there is no proof. Of course there is no proof. Any dirt that was scraped off on my car was REPLACED WHILE SHE DROVE HOME. Her truck has a galvanized steel bumper, so there was no paint to swap onto my car. And now her husband, an employee of ICBC, has advised me to simply claim that it was a hit and run case.
What would you do? I have her phone number and her full name. I could easily call ICBC and tell them who it was and the situation. I'm not a person who likes starting trouble, you know. And what is really the problem with letting it slide and just claiming a hit and run?
I hate decisions like this. HATE THEM. I can't stand the little voice inside me that wants vegeance on her and her cowardly husband. But I don't want to be pushed around anymore. Why should I lie to support someone else's lie? Everyone here knows what happened. Julie offered to take photos of her truck for me, but she said outright "You really can't prove it was me." But do you really need proof to know?
What would you do?
Sorry about the long post. I get wordy sometimes.
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