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Shawn Yim
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I always called him by his full name because it made him laugh. Shawn and I crossed paths in the lunchroom, on the road, at our lockers, the bullpen, the layovers, and everywhere else. We moved in similar circles. He and I both had the seniority to pick away from Atlantic Base, home of the hardest and most challenging routes; and we both had the seniority to pick away from night work, but for different reasons we wanted to be there, working our night shifts together downtown. I do it because I like the people and the pace; Shawn did it because he needed the money, and overtime is best found on the routes, times, and places that are least desirable.
But the 70 is such a cush route.
It doesn't even go to 12th and Jackson. It's too short for sleepers. It's just the 70. Shawn wasn't downtown, either. This happened in the U District. And, reading this at home, you might think 3 AM is a uniquely dangerous time, but it isn't. In post-COVID Seattle there's no difference in safety between 3 PM and 3 AM. Both are equally fraught. Remember the new full-timer who, perhaps because he was African, was [REDACTED to protect operator privacy]. That happened during afternoon rush hour, broad daylight with tons of people around.
Our city allows this sort of thing.
Let the terrible sentence live now as it did then, in that poor operator's horrific experience. He will never forget those minutes. The same is true for the ten people recently stabbed near 12th and Jackson within a 36-hour period, by one deranged individual who attacked all of his victims unprovoked and mostly from behind. There are good folks up there at that notorious intersection, from the small business owners to the seniors in affordable housing to yes, the youngsters outside struggling with drugs. I happen to really like some of those people. They don't deserve to be stabbed.
Neither did Shawn. I consider his final moments with the paralysis of intimate sorrow, intimate because I’ve probably driven the very same vehicle was sitting in, and because I know exactly the terrain and timbre of his final time and place. Shawn Yim as he stumbled away from the bus, making it only a short distance before collapsing on the concrete, over there in the alley behind Wells Fargo, a young and healthy 59 year-old dying alone, collapsing not just in loss of blood but also in belief. How could it possibly end this way, so badly and so soon? All the things I'd planned for, hoped for, wanted to do, fix, see, live….
You remember that I was in the Paris terror attacks in 2015. My next book dives deep into that. But you also remember how decisively Paris, as a system of governance, took action in responding to something even as nebulous as terrorists, taking preventative measures while pursuing the appropriate action behind the scenes, swiftly and with the use of considerable resources. They ensured safety when the enemy was unknown and few.
Our situation is different. Seattle’s problems and dangers are not hidden but obvious. They repeat in predictable and terrifying ways. Violent behavior happens here without intervention. Life-destroying drugs can be used in broad daylight without consequence. Unstable souls with desperate needs, dangers to themselves and others, are dumped on the street and left to rot amongst the crowd. Hundreds of millions of dollars and years of lip service are expended in the name of solving these crises, while 3rd Avenue remains exactly as unsafe as it was four years ago.
The fact that it was Shawn Yim crushes me.
A robust and friendly man, one of the few Korean-Americans at Atlantic Base besides myself. I rarely brought up our shared heritage but it was always there between us, an unspoken bond the others couldn't share. We would joke about the miserable state of things, the jesting laughs of our brief interactions emboldening us to carry onward. “I don't know how you do it, Nate," he'd smile, watching my enthusiasm as I prepped for another night on my 7.
It happened five minutes into his last trip of his shift.
Home stretch, almost done. He probably took the piece (we call shifts pieces) thinking this'll be easy, route 70 at night no big deal, nice easy route during the hours when there's no traffic, even better. What was he saving up for, working all those hours?
The pain of losing Shawn is the fact that I always hoped to know him better. We were both of us continuously in motion, rushing through our lives, aware that we'd get more out of knowing each other but, you know, duty calls. Our friendship was a lifetime of unfinished conversations. Who was he, deep down?
The two of us standing by the microwave, Shawn with his polished wire-frame glasses and trademark light blue oxford–only senior operators wear those, because the uniform store no longer makes them–with a reflective vest on top. His bald head and thoughtful eyes plus the professionalism of the glasses, contrasted with that safety vest, cast him as a sort of urban intellectual, the kind of person you can’t quite pin down, because they don’t fit into any one box.
I always wanted to ask another question, share a little more. He knew my partner, and would joke about how good her Korean is. “That’s so creepy, you sound like my sister!” he'd tell her, laughing with that handsome, tired smile of his. Other times he'd be driving the bus I was riding, and we’d wax reflectively about human nature and the state of the city. Of course I wish I could remember our exact conversations. But how can I, sitting as I am in the shell-shocked immensity that is violent death? At least I can still recall the feeling, the easy sensation of another day with one of your favorite coworkers, joking the trip away while watching the road together. He was so good at letting me be myself, even when he had different views. I did the same for him. We never tried to change each other. Talking with him brought me joy.
Why do we delay the things that matter most?
It is the City’s responsibility–our leaders and ourselves–to make Seattle safe. To foster environments where people don't have to risk damage and death by merely using transit. After all that has happened and continues to happen, who among our leaders would dare to say meaningful progress has been made? My friends on the street and I know differently. We watch and wait as ever we have, waiting for legislation that could so easily reverse a lot of the things Seattleites have to suffer, waiting for someone with the agency and power and courage to come forward and make some real moves. That person will be named a hero.
But whoever they end up being, they will be too late for Shawn Yim.
---
CLICK HERE for my NPR interview on this subject (scroll down for the full 19-minute interview).
But the 70 is such a cush route.
It doesn't even go to 12th and Jackson. It's too short for sleepers. It's just the 70. Shawn wasn't downtown, either. This happened in the U District. And, reading this at home, you might think 3 AM is a uniquely dangerous time, but it isn't. In post-COVID Seattle there's no difference in safety between 3 PM and 3 AM. Both are equally fraught. Remember the new full-timer who, perhaps because he was African, was [REDACTED to protect operator privacy]. That happened during afternoon rush hour, broad daylight with tons of people around.
Our city allows this sort of thing.
Let the terrible sentence live now as it did then, in that poor operator's horrific experience. He will never forget those minutes. The same is true for the ten people recently stabbed near 12th and Jackson within a 36-hour period, by one deranged individual who attacked all of his victims unprovoked and mostly from behind. There are good folks up there at that notorious intersection, from the small business owners to the seniors in affordable housing to yes, the youngsters outside struggling with drugs. I happen to really like some of those people. They don't deserve to be stabbed.
Neither did Shawn. I consider his final moments with the paralysis of intimate sorrow, intimate because I’ve probably driven the very same vehicle was sitting in, and because I know exactly the terrain and timbre of his final time and place. Shawn Yim as he stumbled away from the bus, making it only a short distance before collapsing on the concrete, over there in the alley behind Wells Fargo, a young and healthy 59 year-old dying alone, collapsing not just in loss of blood but also in belief. How could it possibly end this way, so badly and so soon? All the things I'd planned for, hoped for, wanted to do, fix, see, live….
You remember that I was in the Paris terror attacks in 2015. My next book dives deep into that. But you also remember how decisively Paris, as a system of governance, took action in responding to something even as nebulous as terrorists, taking preventative measures while pursuing the appropriate action behind the scenes, swiftly and with the use of considerable resources. They ensured safety when the enemy was unknown and few.
Our situation is different. Seattle’s problems and dangers are not hidden but obvious. They repeat in predictable and terrifying ways. Violent behavior happens here without intervention. Life-destroying drugs can be used in broad daylight without consequence. Unstable souls with desperate needs, dangers to themselves and others, are dumped on the street and left to rot amongst the crowd. Hundreds of millions of dollars and years of lip service are expended in the name of solving these crises, while 3rd Avenue remains exactly as unsafe as it was four years ago.
The fact that it was Shawn Yim crushes me.
A robust and friendly man, one of the few Korean-Americans at Atlantic Base besides myself. I rarely brought up our shared heritage but it was always there between us, an unspoken bond the others couldn't share. We would joke about the miserable state of things, the jesting laughs of our brief interactions emboldening us to carry onward. “I don't know how you do it, Nate," he'd smile, watching my enthusiasm as I prepped for another night on my 7.
It happened five minutes into his last trip of his shift.
Home stretch, almost done. He probably took the piece (we call shifts pieces) thinking this'll be easy, route 70 at night no big deal, nice easy route during the hours when there's no traffic, even better. What was he saving up for, working all those hours?
The pain of losing Shawn is the fact that I always hoped to know him better. We were both of us continuously in motion, rushing through our lives, aware that we'd get more out of knowing each other but, you know, duty calls. Our friendship was a lifetime of unfinished conversations. Who was he, deep down?
The two of us standing by the microwave, Shawn with his polished wire-frame glasses and trademark light blue oxford–only senior operators wear those, because the uniform store no longer makes them–with a reflective vest on top. His bald head and thoughtful eyes plus the professionalism of the glasses, contrasted with that safety vest, cast him as a sort of urban intellectual, the kind of person you can’t quite pin down, because they don’t fit into any one box.
I always wanted to ask another question, share a little more. He knew my partner, and would joke about how good her Korean is. “That’s so creepy, you sound like my sister!” he'd tell her, laughing with that handsome, tired smile of his. Other times he'd be driving the bus I was riding, and we’d wax reflectively about human nature and the state of the city. Of course I wish I could remember our exact conversations. But how can I, sitting as I am in the shell-shocked immensity that is violent death? At least I can still recall the feeling, the easy sensation of another day with one of your favorite coworkers, joking the trip away while watching the road together. He was so good at letting me be myself, even when he had different views. I did the same for him. We never tried to change each other. Talking with him brought me joy.
Why do we delay the things that matter most?
It is the City’s responsibility–our leaders and ourselves–to make Seattle safe. To foster environments where people don't have to risk damage and death by merely using transit. After all that has happened and continues to happen, who among our leaders would dare to say meaningful progress has been made? My friends on the street and I know differently. We watch and wait as ever we have, waiting for legislation that could so easily reverse a lot of the things Seattleites have to suffer, waiting for someone with the agency and power and courage to come forward and make some real moves. That person will be named a hero.
But whoever they end up being, they will be too late for Shawn Yim.
---
CLICK HERE for my NPR interview on this subject (scroll down for the full 19-minute interview).
I wish that I had the honor of knowing Shawn.
I pray for a solution to this crisis in our city and for for it to come soon!
Thank you. It's always a joy to see you. We'll see if this is the tragic death that leads to a safer city. One can hope!!
Thanks for reading- fabulous to hear from you. Hard times indeed at Metro.
Metro has become the default receptacle for people with mental health issues, homelessness issues, and addiction issues. We need to call out the King County agencies that deal with mental health, homelessness, and addiction, and get them out on our buses to tend to their flocks. We are tired of babysitting their abdication of responsibility.
Great words. Thanks for your comment. I agree, another study or task force or committee is not what's needed here. A change in the understanding that buses are shelters would be helpful for everyone, and the first step there is to create shelter elsewhere that these folks can be relocated to.
The moment I was told it was our operator I had to step out of the control room. I called my mom and immediately broke down in tears. Couldn’t breathe. Was panicking. I quickly hung up the phone and wiped my eyes as nothing happened.
I had to be strong for everyone in the room and for those at the scene strong for Shawn and strong for our work family.
Saturday morning at 4:45 while on the radio with the operator who called in about the killer on his bus and received the confirmationSPD had arrested him brought so much happiness.
Nate please continue to speak your mind and shine brightness to the world.
It's a very special treat to get to work alongside you. Thanks for being someone who cares so genuinely about humanity, about other people, about our safety. It's refreshing. My night is always totally rejuvenated when I see you in the D-Car out on the road. You make an enormous difference. Thanks for all you do, and for your kind words here.
Thank you for honoring a beautiful soul.
Your stories about Shawn pierce, question, and inspire all of us. I’m so grateful I know you and can remember Shawn Yim by these small but significant pieces of your memory of him.
This is a huge loss. Huge.
I can't thank you enough for reading with such feeling. These are difficult feelings to reckon with, and you're brave to always engage so fully. It's a tragic loss, and moreso because of how avoidable it was.
Thank you for taking a moment to write. I have so much respect for the hidden jobs, the working class, the blue collar, whatever phrase one uses; these are what make the city truly go round. Seeing so much solidarity for operators from the public lately has been gratifying.
YES! Very important to remember, especially in our grief. Fear, isolation, suspicion- these are not meaningful answers for a community that wishes to thrive. If we make the buses impregnable faceless militaristic machines, we absolve the city of Seattle's leaders from having to do anything about fixing what the real problem is: making the streets of Seattle safe. It is their shoulders, and not Metro's upon whom this issue rests.
Interestingly enough, it was also while serving stops on the UW campus (just around the corner on Campus Parkway) years later where I hit my final breaking point and decided to quit Metro. A completely different route with different regulars, but it was still a stop right around the corner from this tragedy that made me say "I'm done." It wasn't the pandemic (it was more recent, post vaccines, post masking, etc). It was NOT the shooting/stabbing/etc risks I had survived in downtown Seattle. Not anything on 3rd Ave. NOT all the times I felt dizzy, nauseous from breathing fentanyl fumes. Not the occasional harassment/intimidation from some street people because of my gender. Not even the insanity of servicing the 12th and Jackson stops. All those stressors, of course, added up over the years (I was at top pay when I left), but, no, it was instead an experience at a zone on UW's Campus Parkway that finally broke me.
Despite the ongoing financial (including insurance coverage) damage that came from quitting Metro, the improvement to my mental health that came from quitting was dramatic. I feel for those of you still shouldering the stress of the job on top of coping with this freshly added grief! I hope safer working conditions come soon for all of you who have remained as Metro operators. Considering how many years the union has been asking for better protection to no avail, considering how little has improved between operator deaths and assaults and close calls, I feel great pessimism that anything significant will improve. Even within this past week I have STILL heard middle class Metro riders actively downplaying the realities on the news and social media. Seattle voters actively denying very publicly to each other that the entire scenario surrounding Shawn's death wasn't a "rare", "one-off" situation "unlikely" to happen again as they want to claim. But I HOPE the union finally prevails in long-overdue security improvements, I HOPE the realities of the job will improve for those of you who are left, because without a sense of hope nothing improves.
Thanks for writing. Your words illustrate the difficult realities of the work we do, and the lack of institutional backup. In that we drivers share something in common with our homeless friends on the street- both groups feel more or less totally ignored by their governing bodies. A depressing state of affairs. I'm sorry for the UW experience you survived, and hope you find your way to a work situation with less stress!
Agreed. Stay safe out there! And thank you!
great to hear from you. Thanks for all you've done over the years advocating for operators' rights in the workplace. That's one tough fight!! You've been a role model to many, including myself. Thanks for your kind words.
As I stood waiting for the procession to arrive, several other folks gathered and we shared our stories. A couple of us were riders, two others were retired Metro employees. We all felt a sense of heartbreak and gratitude for the incredible Metro employees who keep this city moving. No operator should ever die this way.
The procession of vehicles was powerful. I was just glad to be there to show my support and thanks. Metro is a vital public service and part of what makes Seattle so great. Operators deserve to feel safe. I'm so sorry for this tragic loss and I'm keeping Shawn's family and the transit community in my thoughts.
Thank you for sharing these thoughts and experiences. Thank you for taking time to be there, and reflect on Shawn's passing. If only he could've been alive to see such a citywide outpouring of appreciation, especially after dying such a horribly lonely death! He would be so surprised, and so moved beyond words, I'm sure of it.