So I meet some trial attorneys on a deserted road on the outskirts of Fairfield. Their client, driving down this empty road was suddenly struck by a vehicle careening across Interstate 80, crashing through a flimsy fence separating the frontage road from the interstate highway.
One of them curses Caltrans, theatrically kicking the ground, for just replacing the fence and not putting in a guard rail and he quickly follows that he doesn't want to stand here too long because a car could crash through at any moment.
I shoot some photos and they keep asking if I am getting the road in. I am yelling "YES!" over the top of the roar from the interstate. I finish the shoot and start to break down my equipment while they climb back in their shinny, silver BWM with the license plate "9 Jurors" and peel out.
