It's been almost two years since I stood on a road in light rain, watching as law enforcement officials covered the body of 17-year-old Adam Williams, who had died in a vehicle accident. I also watched as a housewife in a pink skirt and shirt was led away by her husband. Hours later, she would be arrested for driving under the influence of alcohol, with a blood-alcohol content level of 0.33 percent, or more than four times the legal driving limit. Two days later, I watched as she sat in court, shackled and shaking.
The case dragged on and the mother of twin 11-year-old girls ultimately pleaded guilty in exchange for an 11-year prison sentence. I never saw her daughters, but I saw her husband, who seemed to age more than he should have in the year between his wife's arrest and conviction. As for Adam's father, I got to know him through various court appearances and memorials for his son. I talked to him yesterday about a legislative bill that, if passed, would be named for Adam and would increase penalties for drunk drivers. Steve Williams isn't the same anymore, either, though he's trying valiantly to make sure his son did not die in vain.
I'm a reporter who sees both sides and doesn't include her opinion in stories. However, it's hard to see the other side in drunk driving cases. I know what it feels like to think, "Yep, I can't drive right now." I guess some people just think they're invincible. I don't judge them, but I wonder how many people drive drunk because, in their alcohol-induced state, they truly think they can do it.
Last weekend, I would have gotten to sleep almost an hour earlier if I hadn't been determined to prevent someone from driving home. I knew he'd had plenty to drink, and I knew his "I'll walk home" claims wouldn't happen. He refused a ride home, so I said I'd follow in my car to make sure he got home on foot. He didn't like that idea either, and the clock kept ticking. Finally, I drove his car home and another sober person followed and took me back to my car. The drive was less than a mile, so what are the odds that he would have gotten home just fine? I don't care about the answer to that question. If anything had happened to him or anyone else, I'd forever know that I could have prevented it.
That's why I've always told people they can call me at any hour. My friends think it's hilarious that they can call me at 2 a.m. -- for a ride or just to say a drunken hello -- and I'll have a conversation with them and not be mad. I figure it's the least I can do. In a way, I also feel that it's my duty, because I've been at accidents and I've seen families who were destroyed by one drunken driving incident. I've been in courtrooms full of people being arraigned on drunken driving charges, and those are only the ones who were caught. Many more are never stopped.
And some, as in Adam's case, are only stopped when it's too late.
Drunk drivers
It's been almost two years since I stood on a road in light rain, watching as law enforcement officials covered the body of 17-year-old Adam Williams, who had died in a vehicle accident. I also watched as a housewife in a pink skirt and shirt was led away by her husband. Hours later, she would be arrested for driving under the influence of alcohol, with a blood-alcohol content level of 0.33 percent, or more than four times the legal driving limit. Two days later, I watched as she sat in court, shackled and shaking.The case dragged on and the mother of twin 11-year-old girls ultimately pleaded guilty in exchange for an 11-year prison sentence. I never saw her daughters, but I saw her husband, who seemed to age more than he should have in the year between his wife's arrest and conviction. As for Adam's father, I got to know him through various court appearances and memorials for his son. I talked to him yesterday about a legislative bill that, if passed, would be named for Adam and would increase penalties for drunk drivers. Steve Williams isn't the same anymore, either, though he's trying valiantly to make sure his son did not die in vain.
I'm a reporter who sees both sides and doesn't include her opinion in stories. However, it's hard to see the other side in drunk driving cases. I know what it feels like to think, "Yep, I can't drive right now." I guess some people just think they're invincible. I don't judge them, but I wonder how many people drive drunk because, in their alcohol-induced state, they truly think they can do it.
Last weekend, I would have gotten to sleep almost an hour earlier if I hadn't been determined to prevent someone from driving home. I knew he'd had plenty to drink, and I knew his "I'll walk home" claims wouldn't happen. He refused a ride home, so I said I'd follow in my car to make sure he got home on foot. He didn't like that idea either, and the clock kept ticking. Finally, I drove his car home and another sober person followed and took me back to my car. The drive was less than a mile, so what are the odds that he would have gotten home just fine? I don't care about the answer to that question. If anything had happened to him or anyone else, I'd forever know that I could have prevented it.
That's why I've always told people they can call me at any hour. My friends think it's hilarious that they can call me at 2 a.m. -- for a ride or just to say a drunken hello -- and I'll have a conversation with them and not be mad. I figure it's the least I can do. In a way, I also feel that it's my duty, because I've been at accidents and I've seen families who were destroyed by one drunken driving incident. I've been in courtrooms full of people being arraigned on drunken driving charges, and those are only the ones who were caught. Many more are never stopped.
And some, as in Adam's case, are only stopped when it's too late.
Posted by Layla at 11:03 AM, April 02, 2005. Comments (0)