The distance he has kept means he doesn’t see the accident. He only sees the two cars smashed and at rest on different sides of a wide, deserted junction in an industrial area. He only sees two men surrounding Neda’s car, banging on the bonnet and the windows, shouting inside, and another man pulling a cricket bat from the other car. He doesn’t stop to think it through. He accelerates until he’s almost on them, his headlights blinding the two men. Then he runs out and he attacks. Attacks with all the violence that’s been coiled inside him. It’s over in a few seconds. He doesn’t even remember
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