Stories

David & Danielle’s Story

It was Tuesday, May 31, 2005. Just before Michael left for school in the morning, I told him I loved him. He said he loved me too. Those were his last words to me.

Later that day at 4:30, I was in my office. Sometimes I would meet Mike where the bus dropped him off, but on this day I got held up at work. When I couldn’t meet him, he would always call me at 4:45 to say he was home safe. But on that day, he didn’t call. He didn’t pick up his cell phone or the house phone. I checked my voicemail, and my neighbor Angie had left a message to call right away. I called and she told me that Michael had “got hit.” I asked, “You mean he got in a fight?” She said, “No, you have to come home.” She didn’t want to tell me the news over the phone, but I insisted. She told me Michael was dead, and I completely lost it. I screamed and cried and screamed. A coworker talked me out of driving myself home and gave me a ride.

My son was hit in the crosswalk at the bus stop. I later learned that the driver was an off-duty police officer who had been golfing and drinking all day. His BAC was .15%, almost twice the legal limit. Unbelievably, he drove off. But someone saw it happen, followed him and called 911. He was soon fired from the police force, but he remained free for over a year until the judge sentenced him to five years in prison. Ironically, he was paroled on the three-year anniversary of the day he killed Michael. I was completely stunned. They told me he would do 85% of a 5-6 year sentence. Instead, he did just 20 months. He had gotten to work on an inmate fire crew which earned him an astonishing amount of credit toward time served. I used to be a public defender and I didn’t even know he had such an option.

Michael was my oldest child. The only reason I lived through it all was because of my other son Andrew. Nowadays, I sometimes work with MADD on a program called “Choices and Consequences.” We talk to middle school kids about drinking and driving, and we talk about the consequences of doing so. I tell them my story. It’s hard to do, but it’s helpful too. I have to believe it’s worth it. Drunk driving isn’t a problem that will go away by itself. All I can do is continue sharing my story and hope that someone listens long enough to drive more responsibly.