RepublicThunderbolt
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He said/he said crash incident angers both sides
James Dunbar feared being shot. David Christian feared being beaten.
By John Pacenti
Palm Beach Post Staff Writer
Saturday, December 25, 1999
James W. Dunbar Jr. grew up in the projects in Palm Beach County. He said he kept his nose clean during a tough adolescence - despite racism so thick it made a young black man numb - then joined the Navy as a teenager and four years ago became a Riviera Beach paramedic.
So when a gun was pointed at him on Military Trail following a fender bender, he thought for sure the state attorney would prosecute - especially since the suspect's van was loaded down with weapons. Instead, Dunbar found himself taking a lie detector test, and the felony case was eventually dropped.
"It was like I was the criminal and he was the victim," Dunbar said. "Although I have no record, I was just sterotyped. The guys at the station house keep asking me about this case. When I tell them 'nothing' they can't believe it."
State Attorney Barry Krischir's office, though, found itself in a quandry. The perpetrator wasn't some thug, but well-respected businessman David R. Christian, who ministers to prisoners and is a Scoutmaster. He had a concealed weapons permit. And a former prosecutor as a defense attorney.
"I've filed a number of road rage cases. We take it very seriously," said Mitch Kitroser, the assistant state attorney responsible for deciding whether or not to pursue charges.
"When you have a situation that two people with no prior criminal history and they are telling two diffirent versions of the same event - one a criminal act , the other consistant with a justifiable display of force - then that's a tough case."
Dunbar is black, Christian is white. They are both family men, raised in Palm Beach County, friendly and dedicated to their professions. Yet, the two men crossed paths early that Wednesday morning in a dangerous way that is becoming more frequent on the congested roadways.
"They took me to jail on a verbal accusation," Christian said. "The fact is I had a gun, he had a cell phone. He had the better weapon."
Dunbar says he was en route to the fire ststion on March 3 from his Boynton Beach home when Cristian's van struck his Mustang. When he went to get Christian's insurance information, he found himself looking at a semi-automatic weapon.
'He had me point-blank'
"I didn't think anything of going back to talk to him, espicially since I was in uniform," said Dunbar, 32. "I was in shock when I saw the gun. I couldn't run. So I pointed to my uniform, thinking he wouldn't shoot a paramedic."
No shots were fired and when Christian drove off, Dunbar used his cell phone to dial 911 to report the incident, according to a Palm Beach County sheriff's report.
Christian was pulled over 4 miles away on Blue Heron Boulevard, and deputies discovered the gun - a 9mm Glock - as well as a .22-caliber pocket gun, a pellet gun and a work knife.
Dunbar said Christian's van was plastered with "anti-government bumperstickers" and full of shell casings: "It looked like he was ready for World War III."
Christian confirms he had the weapons because he carries lots of cash for his small-engine repair business, Engine Master, in Riviera Beach. The shell casings were from his .357 Magnum revolver that he keeps in the office and often takes to the shooting range. He denies pointing the Glock at the paramedic, but does say he cocked it within his sight, though the windows were still rolled up.
The Lake Worth man, who turns 46 on Sunday, said he pulled the gun because he was confronted by 6-foot-1, 210-pound Dunbar "pounding on his chest." He said Dunbar swerved, forced him into the median, and then trapped him in traffic.
"I'm prepared to defend myself," Christian said. "I really didn't want to shoot him, but I didn't feel like getting my brains beat in either."
As a result, though, Christian was charged with assault with a firearm - a felony with a minimum prison penalty of three years. He also ended up spending his daughter's 16th birthday in jail.
"I was the victim here. They put me in jail with drug dealers and murderers," he said. "I was so traumatized by it that when I got out I would just be sitting on the couch watching TV, and I would burst into tears for no reason. It did a real number on my head."
Christian says he is not the nut Dunbar portrays him to be. He counsels inmates at state prisions in South Bay and Belle Glade. A Republican, his bumper stickers display his distrust of big government: "Impeach Clinton" and "Love My Country, Fear My Government."
Allen Geesey, a former top prosecutor, became Christian's defense attorney. He got the state attorney's office to reevaluate the case. Friends also rallied behind Christian.
"I have more letters on behalf of Mr. Christian than I've ever seen before or since in my time as a prosecutor," Kitroser said. "My philosophy is you always listen. ...(With) what Allen was telling me, it seemed like there was at least a reason to listen further."
When Dunbar got word that the case was dropped, he was dumbfounded: Was it racial? Was it money? His attorney suggested Christian got special treatment because Geesey was a former prosecutor.
Mike Edmonson, spokesman for Krischer, denies any favoritism: "Cases are evaluated on the legalities, regardless of who is the victim, the defendant or the defense attorney."
'I was treated like a criminal'
Dunbar, though, was outraged and got Kitroser to consider reopening the case. Dunbar was asked to submit to a lie detector test, which he passed.
"I didn't understand why I was being treated like a criminal," Dunbar said. They said I didn't have credibility. I said, 'I'm a fireman. Isn't that credibility enough?' I was told not to be a smartass."
Kitroser submitted the case to a committee of five colleagues. Every one said not to prosecute. Eventually, Christian got pretrial intervention, an alternative to probation for first time offenders, for leaving the scene of an accident - but no criminal charge.
"I tell you it woke me up to the system," Dunbar said. "I don't know how he did it. I assume he had the money. If he could do that and get away with it, what would have happened if he pulled the trigger?"
As for Christian, he said he's going to stop carrying guns and start carrying something more powerful: a cellphone.
john_pacenti@pbpost.com
[This message has been edited by RepublicThunderbolt (edited December 27, 1999).]
James Dunbar feared being shot. David Christian feared being beaten.
By John Pacenti
Palm Beach Post Staff Writer
Saturday, December 25, 1999
James W. Dunbar Jr. grew up in the projects in Palm Beach County. He said he kept his nose clean during a tough adolescence - despite racism so thick it made a young black man numb - then joined the Navy as a teenager and four years ago became a Riviera Beach paramedic.
So when a gun was pointed at him on Military Trail following a fender bender, he thought for sure the state attorney would prosecute - especially since the suspect's van was loaded down with weapons. Instead, Dunbar found himself taking a lie detector test, and the felony case was eventually dropped.
"It was like I was the criminal and he was the victim," Dunbar said. "Although I have no record, I was just sterotyped. The guys at the station house keep asking me about this case. When I tell them 'nothing' they can't believe it."
State Attorney Barry Krischir's office, though, found itself in a quandry. The perpetrator wasn't some thug, but well-respected businessman David R. Christian, who ministers to prisoners and is a Scoutmaster. He had a concealed weapons permit. And a former prosecutor as a defense attorney.
"I've filed a number of road rage cases. We take it very seriously," said Mitch Kitroser, the assistant state attorney responsible for deciding whether or not to pursue charges.
"When you have a situation that two people with no prior criminal history and they are telling two diffirent versions of the same event - one a criminal act , the other consistant with a justifiable display of force - then that's a tough case."
Dunbar is black, Christian is white. They are both family men, raised in Palm Beach County, friendly and dedicated to their professions. Yet, the two men crossed paths early that Wednesday morning in a dangerous way that is becoming more frequent on the congested roadways.
"They took me to jail on a verbal accusation," Christian said. "The fact is I had a gun, he had a cell phone. He had the better weapon."
Dunbar says he was en route to the fire ststion on March 3 from his Boynton Beach home when Cristian's van struck his Mustang. When he went to get Christian's insurance information, he found himself looking at a semi-automatic weapon.
'He had me point-blank'
"I didn't think anything of going back to talk to him, espicially since I was in uniform," said Dunbar, 32. "I was in shock when I saw the gun. I couldn't run. So I pointed to my uniform, thinking he wouldn't shoot a paramedic."
No shots were fired and when Christian drove off, Dunbar used his cell phone to dial 911 to report the incident, according to a Palm Beach County sheriff's report.
Christian was pulled over 4 miles away on Blue Heron Boulevard, and deputies discovered the gun - a 9mm Glock - as well as a .22-caliber pocket gun, a pellet gun and a work knife.
Dunbar said Christian's van was plastered with "anti-government bumperstickers" and full of shell casings: "It looked like he was ready for World War III."
Christian confirms he had the weapons because he carries lots of cash for his small-engine repair business, Engine Master, in Riviera Beach. The shell casings were from his .357 Magnum revolver that he keeps in the office and often takes to the shooting range. He denies pointing the Glock at the paramedic, but does say he cocked it within his sight, though the windows were still rolled up.
The Lake Worth man, who turns 46 on Sunday, said he pulled the gun because he was confronted by 6-foot-1, 210-pound Dunbar "pounding on his chest." He said Dunbar swerved, forced him into the median, and then trapped him in traffic.
"I'm prepared to defend myself," Christian said. "I really didn't want to shoot him, but I didn't feel like getting my brains beat in either."
As a result, though, Christian was charged with assault with a firearm - a felony with a minimum prison penalty of three years. He also ended up spending his daughter's 16th birthday in jail.
"I was the victim here. They put me in jail with drug dealers and murderers," he said. "I was so traumatized by it that when I got out I would just be sitting on the couch watching TV, and I would burst into tears for no reason. It did a real number on my head."
Christian says he is not the nut Dunbar portrays him to be. He counsels inmates at state prisions in South Bay and Belle Glade. A Republican, his bumper stickers display his distrust of big government: "Impeach Clinton" and "Love My Country, Fear My Government."
Allen Geesey, a former top prosecutor, became Christian's defense attorney. He got the state attorney's office to reevaluate the case. Friends also rallied behind Christian.
"I have more letters on behalf of Mr. Christian than I've ever seen before or since in my time as a prosecutor," Kitroser said. "My philosophy is you always listen. ...(With) what Allen was telling me, it seemed like there was at least a reason to listen further."
When Dunbar got word that the case was dropped, he was dumbfounded: Was it racial? Was it money? His attorney suggested Christian got special treatment because Geesey was a former prosecutor.
Mike Edmonson, spokesman for Krischer, denies any favoritism: "Cases are evaluated on the legalities, regardless of who is the victim, the defendant or the defense attorney."
'I was treated like a criminal'
Dunbar, though, was outraged and got Kitroser to consider reopening the case. Dunbar was asked to submit to a lie detector test, which he passed.
"I didn't understand why I was being treated like a criminal," Dunbar said. They said I didn't have credibility. I said, 'I'm a fireman. Isn't that credibility enough?' I was told not to be a smartass."
Kitroser submitted the case to a committee of five colleagues. Every one said not to prosecute. Eventually, Christian got pretrial intervention, an alternative to probation for first time offenders, for leaving the scene of an accident - but no criminal charge.
"I tell you it woke me up to the system," Dunbar said. "I don't know how he did it. I assume he had the money. If he could do that and get away with it, what would have happened if he pulled the trigger?"
As for Christian, he said he's going to stop carrying guns and start carrying something more powerful: a cellphone.
john_pacenti@pbpost.com
[This message has been edited by RepublicThunderbolt (edited December 27, 1999).]