11/10/18 Toxicology Report On Conner?

    It seems I did not commit murder on Conner, he may have committed suicide by jumping in front of me as I had thought.  His toxicology report showed he was high on diesel fumes and speed.  It seems he had been fighting with Connie for awhile.  She was trying to keep it on the down low, but she had taken an interest in a fellow by the name of Mr. Drummond, built like an upside down trash can, the guy was just massive and intimidating compared to poor pointy headed Conner.  To add insult to injury, Conner had been recently demoted from the highway team down to local roadways, so he was already separated from his family for a while.
    You may not think much of it, but when you are on a federal highway, you have certain rights in the position of Mr. Cone (Conner), such as you are kept in proper fitting reflective clothing, once a month they have to professionally steam clean you to look proper and shiny.  Once you are relegated to a city street, well, we all know how little respect we show to anything on the streets.  Most of us are distracted by our phones, our stereos, trying to get in front of the idiot in front of us, thinking how stupid the person we just passed is.  It is, unfortunately, a different world for those chosen to this line of work.  There is never enough money, locally, to steam clean and do any maintenance on the local guys, instead, they just rely on constant replacements.
    If you ask me, I don't think he meant to kill himself, hell it's Texas.  He probably thought, at this late of an hour, it'll be a man in a 4x4 lifted truck, the vehicle might not even touch me.  Alas, it was a man, but in a chick Korean SUV box with barely 6 inches of clearance underneath.  Conner probably thought if anything I can bend half my body after the blow and I'll be alright, but with only 6 inches to work with, he was pretty much dead as soon as he jumped.  He had gotten older and had a little paunch, not bad for a guy living a good life, but no where in shape to bend like the guys on the Matrix movie to avoid essentially the grim reaper in a cream colored death box.
    I write a poem, in your memory:

Oh Conner, you mighty little cone

to think that in the end, you died all alone,

it just breaks my heart

you were always a good one, I knew it from the start.

You never complained even while working through a freeze,

you reminded us all, "Hey in three months we'll be back in a warm breeze!"

You raised two good boys who in your line of work they were also attracted

keeping safe those fellow idiots who love to constantly be distracted.

Most of us will never understand the courage that your life took

but I am sitting wondering about writing about you in a book.

I think the world should know that cones aren't as insensitive as crummy rocks

I told Wife don't complain about your car's repairs, it's only one hundred bucks.

Think of the life that Conner is already going to miss

he never will even have a chance for his grandbaby (cones) to kiss.