Another light goes out. "Oh no. Oh shit. Shit!" Smith’s voice is rising and tightening. The Witness posits, based on expression and cadence, that he is reviewing causalities and options and cannot locate any that please him. In what is estimated with 98 per cent certainty to be desperation without the rational expectation of survival, he releases the seatbelt, lunges into the back seat for his coat. This is a strange thing that people do when they are about to run for their lives, but have not yet actually begun. The Inspector has seen it before: the residual obedience to convention. As soon as it gets in his way he will discard the coat, will briefly wish he had not brought it before he forgets even that much in his flight, but in this first instant he cannot imagine leaving his vehicle without his wallet and keys. The mundane part of his life insists that, having escaped from horror and survived, he will want a drink and access to his home, and how will he get these things without his effects? It is the same stupid impulse that kills passengers in air crashes, as they open the overhead locker before exiting a burning plane.