When I was 17 I hit a motorcyclist with my car. It was late at night and he was in the roadway wearing all black after crashing. His motorcycle slid off the road and down an embankment, and I didn't see him. I was traveling about 60 MPH. When I hit him he was on his knees attempting to get up. I could see his face when I hit him. I still see his face. His blood alcohol content was 3 times higher than the legal limit and he had apparently just left a nearby dive bar after fighting the bartender to get his keys back.
The local small town newspaper released my name (unlawfully) in the story. The motorcyclist happened to be the uncle of a classmate of mine. I joined the Marines shortly after to continue my life of killing.