In February 2018, my mother, Jennifer Chang, experienced firsthand how dangerous riding the Muni train in San Francisco could be. She almost lost her life at the Castro and Market Street station when a man suddenly and violently pushed her toward the tracks in front of an approaching train. It wasn’t an accident — it was a deliberate, unprovoked attack.
“That morning started like any other,” My mother recalls. “I was standing on the platform, waiting for the L Taraval train, just a short walk from our home. It was part of why I chose to live in the Castro District — the convenience and feeling of safety. Suddenly, without warning, someone pushed me from behind. If I’d been standing any closer to the edge, or if I’d been elderly or disabled, I wouldn’t be here today.”
Miraculously, she managed to keep her footing. She turned around in shock and saw the man who had attacked her simply board the train without even acknowledging what he’d done. Mom, despite her panic, took a photo of him before he could disappear. Immediately afterward, she reported the incident to a Muni employee, who called the police. Officers took her statement, but nothing came of it.
“It wasn’t just the attack that shook me,” my mother explains. “It was what came next. Weeks went by, and then months, with no follow-up from the police, even though I had a clear image of my attacker. When I finally spoke to someone at the police station, they told me they were understaffed and the district attorney probably wouldn’t prosecute unless I’d been severely injured. I felt completely helpless.”
As her son, it was hard to watch my mom struggle. Together, we decided not to let this incident be quietly forgotten. We printed flyers, spoke with neighbors, and persistently reached out to Muni employees, police officers, and even then District 8 Supervisor Jeff Sheehy. Finally, thanks to Supervisor Sheehy’s intervention, an investigator was assigned to the case. With the photograph and security footage clearly identifying the attacker, we felt hopeful that justice was within reach.
The evidence we had on hand was clear. We had an image of the man, seemingly an ordinary, even well-dressed person, who had attacked my mom out of the blue. We had a record of what he looked like, where he was, and even a Muni surveillance camera recording of the assault. We believed strongly that this overwhelming proof would be more than enough to help the police investigate and stop this from happening again.
Safety shouldn’t depend on who you know or your political savvy.
But that hope didn’t last. After Supervisor Sheehy left office, the case was quietly dropped, leaving us feeling abandoned by the system that was supposed to protect us. Even more disturbingly, about a year later, my mom was called to court — not for her case, but because the same man had pushed another woman, and this time, the victim did fall onto the tracks.
My mother’s story is not unique, and it underscores serious issues with public safety in San Francisco. Slow responses, inadequate staffing, and indifference from previous district attorneys made our city less safe for everyone, especially immigrants like my mother, navigating a complicated system while balancing work and family.
Today, we see some positive changes. With a new district attorney, Brooke Jenkins, and Mayor Daniel Lurie’s administration, citywide crime rates are dropping. But the improvements we’ve seen must go further. Public safety requires effective communication, rapid responses, and accountability — not just when someone is seriously injured, but before tragedy strikes.
My mother did everything she could to seek justice in this case as an ordinary San Franciscan, but nothing worked. The only progress she could make came through the personal intervention of Supervisor Sheehy. If the only way ordinary citizens can get their cases followed up on is by appealing to interested political leaders, then there is no way to tell just how many more cases like hers have disappeared into this bureaucratic mess. Most people can’t devote months trying to ensure that offences against them receive the attention and justice they deserve, and they should not have to. Leaving attacks like this one unaddressed merely invites more, and these need to be stopped before even more people get hurt.
My mother’s experience taught us that community voices matter. Safety shouldn’t depend on who you know or your political savvy. Every person in our city deserves respect, dignity, and protection. Let’s ensure her story helps drive lasting change, so no one else has to endure what she did.
Alastair Budd is a San Francisco native, Lowell High alumnus, and a Reed College student. His summer internship work focuses on public safety and confronting anti-Asian violence.
