commentary by Patrick H. Moore
Now that the guilty verdict has been delivered in the Michael Dunn re-trial for the death of Jordan Davis, it is a foregone conclusion that he will spend the rest of his life in prison. Jordan Davis’ family feels that justice has been achieved and no doubt Dunn’s supporters believe that a grave injustice has been perpetrated.
Although I believe a second-degree-murder conviction with have been a more reasonable outcome, the evidence and how it should have been construed is not what I will discuss in this sad and remorseful post.
Why sad and remorseful? Simple. I am sad and remorseful because Michael Dunn could not live and let live and as a result Jordan Davis’ young life has been snuffed out and Michael Dunn’s life is destroyed. Assuming he lives for another 40 years, he will spend the next 14,600 days in prison. Thus, if Michael Dunn dies (metaphorically speaking) 68 times per day (approximately every 21 minutes) for the next 40 years, he will die 1,000,000 deaths (metaphorically speaking).
This assumes that Michael will feel utmost despair about three times every hour for the next 40 years which may be a conservative estimate. During this long desert-like stretch, he will never be a free man and he will never have sex with a woman. This is the harsh reality he now faces.
And why? Simple. Because he could not live and let live. When he saw and heard Jordan Davis and his comrades blasting their so-called “thug music”, he veered off into a dangerously aggressive state and ended up, for whatever reasons, blasting away at the young men and their vehicle. All he would have had to have done is simply sit there seething for a few minutes while his girlfriend was in the liquor store. He could then have driven away cursing and gnashing his teeth and no harm would have been done. Jordan Davis would still be alive and Michael Dunn would still be a free man. He could still be driving around locked and loaded cursing young men who play “thug music” and thinking, “What’s the world coming too?”
At this point, Jordan Davis cannot die 1,000,000 deaths (metaphorical or otherwise) because he is already dead. Although Ian Fleming once wrote, “You only live twice”, it seems likely that you only die once. Although I’m not certain, I believe Jordan and his friends could have quickly driven away when the aggressive (and very possibly intoxicated man) approached their vehicle. But sadly Jordan Davis also could not live and let live. Rather, if the reports are correct, he flung some angry words in Dunn’s direction who, at some point, grabbed his gun and started blasting.
Dunn started it, Davis continued it and Dunn finished it. Bang!
The young men were only playing their music, no doubt too loudly but that’s what an awful lot of young people do and have been doing for a long time. In my youth, it was the counter-culture working hard to be obnoxious; we had no finer pastime than pissing off the squares. A few times it almost got me killed or at least seriously injured but I was lucky. In those days, not so many people were driving around locked and loaded.
The Thugs Didn’t Like My Looks
On one occasion in 1967 (at the age of 17) I was hitchhiking on the edge of Madison, Wisconsin. I wasn’t even being obnoxious; I was simply hitchhiking, on my way back to California. A couple of white thugs caught wind of me and decided they were going to FUCK ME UP! They basically charged me from across a deserted parking lot on the edge of town. I have no idea why the parking lot was deserted in the middle of day; it was almost like it was a visitation from a Stephen King novel (the diaboloical parking lot). So the thugs charged and they were big, violent dum-dums and I was a skinny hippie who hadn’t been in a fight since junior high.
I would have either been killed or badly injured; no doubt the former if they had gotten completely carried away once I was down and bleeding. At a minimum, I probably would not have walked away.
Time seemed to pause and the thugs began to race toward me at breakneck speed. Two house painters in a white painter’s van were driving into town; somehow they saw this all unfold, realized I was in grave danger, spun a quick 
U-turn and pulled up alongside me with the thugs no more than 15 feet away. They flung open the sliding doors of their van and I dove inside with the thugs so close I could practically smell their breath.
I always joke that on that strange day, God saved me and perhaps He/She did. I’ll never know for sure.
I was obviously very lucky and so were the thugs. Because I was snatched away from the jaws of disaster, they came away from this with no blood on their hands. They were not charged with any serious violent crimes and I sped away toward my next adventure.
Jordan Davis was not nearly so lucky. Neither was Michael Dunn. The software engineer could not live and let live and therefore he will die 1,000,000 deaths. 
Jordan Davis apparently had to get his two cents in and therefore aggravated an already volatile situation, even though he and his friends could apparently have retreated WITHOUT EVEN TURNING THEIR MUSIC DOWN.
I had no such option but Lady Luck was riding with me in the guise of two benevolent house painters in a white painters’ van.
One day I will die but hopefully it will only be one death and hopefully it will not be overly painful. In the meantime, I am filled with sadness and remorse for Jordan Davis and Michael Dunn and all the unfortunate souls whose luck has run out.
Now the sun’s coming up, I’m riding with Lady Luck, freeway cars and trucks…
–Tom Waits “Ol’ 55”