Before we trained to Melbourne this morning, PJ and I went to Z's school where we met with his mum and three of his teachers to discuss Z's bad behaviour - his preying on vulnerable kids, his smashing of a window, stealing knives, drawing on furniture.
As we drove from the school to the station, we saw a car had gone off the road. We pulled over and ran down the scrubby embankment to see it. It had ploughed right through the top of a T-intersection, right through the middle of a long sign held up by two poles and off the road, just missing a big old sentinel tree. White airbags lay limp and unfurled on the front seats, though the car was empty.
Two other cars stopped while we were there to ask if everybody was ok.
Later, when we were seated on the train, I thought about Z and the car - reckless behaviour and reckless driving - and I thought about the fact that we had stopped, along with two other cars, and I wondered how and at what age, what stage, a human being learns empathy.