I was halfway through a routine load when the smart pallet rack auto-lock slammed shut on its own. The company doctor wrote “minor” on my chart, but my leg turned purple and the rack’s error log vanished the same day.

I checked into a waterfront hotel for three nights and woke up on day two unable to lift my head. When I asked what happened, the manager said I must have “overreacted,” but the ER doctor told me carbon monoxide doesn’t care what you believe.

I woke up in a hospital bed with a concussion and a broken wrist, and the only thing anyone from the grocery store wanted to talk about was a “minor incident.” Two days later their insurance adjuster mailed me a letter that said I fell for “unknown reasons,” like the robot wasn’t even there.

I woke up in a trauma bay with gravel in my hair and a rideshare receipt on my phone. By morning, the company was already calling it “driver error” and telling me their GPS logs didn’t exist.

I had the green. Their driver had a schedule to keep. The dashcam saw everything, but the trucking company spent two years trying to convince a jury I was lying. They failed.