This is Part 3 of 3 parts with the same title. If you haven't read the first two, I suggest you scroll down and read them first.
The next major event that I was aware of involving the break-up was Friday, January 15, 2011.
It had come to my attention over the years that many of my girls tended to try risky things when I was out of town because they knew that my husband was not as aware of the household routines. He had at least 10 chidren at home – including four under the age of 4, mostly by himself. He could handle it, but he didn’t have the routines in place that I had. He depended on me to manage details and notice things on a daily basis. When I’m gone, it’s like a limb is missing.
So, sometimes - when I am away – the girls tried to sweet talk their daddy into believing their lies. And Heather was a master.
As it turned out, Heather’s run to Texas happened when I was out of town, but plenty of things happened when I was home too, so I’m not casting blame. Anyway, in a round about way Alan learned of Heather’s plans the night before the accident. Her friends and sister didn’t want her to go and they couldn’t convince her to stay. So my husband was discreetly informed about her plans and was already prepared to take action when I called to check in.
When I called, my husband asked me if I wanted to “be involved in the latest Heather saga” or whether he should handle it alone. I told him to give me the abbreviated version. And he did.
Word was that the cheating boyfriend was supposed to come to Birmingham, but wasn’t coming – again. And Heather had to see him or she couldn’t live another day. As we always did, my husband and I came up with a strategy. Tonight, he was bad cop. I was good cop. This was a change from our usual roles with Heather, but he didn’t want her to know I knew anything.
He texted her - matter-of-factly saying that he knew her plan and it was a bad idea. He said, “Secrets have destroyed you. Do you really want to continue down this path?”
She texted back, “Yes. Because I’m not doing anything wrong.“ She also said that she was at work and she knew it was a bad idea and she had already cancelled her plans.
Then she switched strategies, trying to get him to leave her alone by telling him that his texts were “nosy and demanding” and were only “pushing her away.” She followed with a stab, saying she didn’t ever want to tell him anything because he never had anything to say.
She was like an animal backed into a corner. Her plan to secretly meet her boyfriend was exposed and she was lashing out – trying to break free. This wasn’t the usual way she talked to us. But it is how she spoke when she had been caught.
My husband and I were texting each other while he was texting her. I warned him, “More digs at you. She is blame shifting. She wants you to stop talking to her – trying to make you mad. Don’t fall for it. Remain calm.“
It is so easy to give good advice when I’m not the one whose buttons she is pushing. I suggested that he make himself available to her to talk that night when she got home.
He told her he would wait up to talk to her and she tried again to shut him down, saying spitefully, “That’s why I took sleeping pills the other night!”
The master of understatement, he texted me back and said, “I think she doesn’t want to talk or think about it. She is going with Bec to a movie then home. She called me and asked if she could go to movie.”
I responded. “I doubt that’s her real plan. I bet she is driving home from wherever she drove to meet him. Just a guess.”
My husband wrote back, “I think she will come home like I asked.” Even when she was angry, she liked her dad best. He’s much sweeter than me.
Anyway, I wasn’t convinced she was at work. So I had one of the people I was with in Tennessee, call her work and ask for the store hours to see if Heather was really there. She answered the phone. I was somewhat relieved. If she was at work – she wasn’t actually on the road to Texas – and that meant we still had a chance to protect her one more night.
I frequently said to my husband, “If we can just keep them alive until they aren’t stupid anymore, maybe they’ll make it.”
My husband and I talked again and he decided to say, “I want you home in your own bed – for your own safety.”
Heather responded sarcastically, “Safety. Hah!” But she came home and slept in her own bed that night. It looked like victory.
Unfortunately, it was short-lived. The next day, Heather got up and went to work as scheduled – saying she would be back at 5:30 p.m.
At about 1:30 p.m. she walked in the front door unexpectedly. My husband asked her what happened and she said she got off early. I was still gone and he was home with 10 kids, so he asked her if she could pick up her sister from work at 4:30. She agreed without complaint.
Everything seemed normal. But he had inadvertently interrupted her plans to leave for Texas. This pushed her trip back 3 hours. But of course, he didn’t know that until after.
After dropping off her sister, Heather called her dad and asked if she could go spend the night with her older sister. He agreed. And she started driving to Texas – apparently as fast as she could.
Saturday afternoon, when I thought she was just getting off work, I texted her from Tennessee. Since I got to play good cop this time, I didn’t reprimand her – I just engaged her in conversation. This was a tactic my husband and I used often – especially when a kid couldn’t handle both parents mad at the same time.
Text Between Me and Heather January 15, 2011:
Me: Rough night?
Heather: Yes.
Me: Where are you now?
Heather: With Taz. I just need to take it slow.
Me: Take what slow?
Heather: Just life.
Of course, I now know that she was lying about being with Taz. She was actually driving to Texas. She would have been near Tuscaloosa, Alabama, at that point. I hate that her last words to me were a lie. And I still have no idea what she meant by taking life slow. She was obviously driving like a speed demon. Just one more irony in Heather’s life. I’m not going to hold it against her. What good would that do? But when I re-read our last words – I know that they are a lie and I hate that.
So, the fact that she told no one here and schemed with the boy’s mother to secretly drive to Texas by herself was no surprise. The fact that she hoped to make it from Alabama to Texas and back before we found out that she wasn’t spending the night with her older sister – was predictable. The fact that she packed three old cell phones because she couldn’t find her car charger – but she didn’t bother to bring her wall charger because she couldn’t use that in the car – was no real shock given Heather’s logic.
Heather didn’t tell anyone about her plans until she was well into the trip and no one could stop her. Ironically, she must have heard everything I said in the kitchen that night before Christmas about leaving me out of her stupid decisions – except for the part where I specifically told her she did not have permission to drive to Texas alone!
Heather always did have selective hearing. But she obviously heard the part about letting someone else know. When her friends wouldn’t go along with her plans. When even a call to her biological father didn’t get her the results and support she so desperately wanted, she relied on the boy’s mother to help her.
Honestly, I don’t know the full extent of the boyfriend’s mother’s involvement, but based on what Heather had told me in the past, this mother was overly involved in facilitating her young son’s love life – especially when he was angry, or acting out, or getting arrested and needed to be rescued from his own bad decisions. She was the one trying to patch up the damaged relationships – making excuses for his bad conduct and telling Heather he might hurt himself if she didn’t make-up with him.
The truth is I haven’t actually read the numerous messages between Heather and this boy’s mother yet – the investigator who read the texts says I will be far too upset when I learn the extent of this adult’s involvement. I may never choose to read them. What good could it possibly do for me to know more than I already do?
I’m certainly not happy with this mom and seriously question her judgment. But I forgave her the night before we buried Heather, as I did her son. As a professional peacemaker, I had some experience with forgiveness. I understood that I was the only person who would be hurt by holding on to my anger towards this boy or his mother. I didn’t need someone else to blame for Heather’s death. She was dead. I couldn’t change that and blame wouldn’t make it better. Having a target for my grief felt good for a moment, but it wasn’t going to bring any long-term satisfaction.
Disturbing? Yes. But pointless now. The fact is that Heather knew better and she chose to follow what she knew was bad advice. She had to go through a lot of people that loved her and opposed her before she found someone to support her bad decision. That says a lot about the people that loved her most.
We have pieced together a lot of the details of that night.
Our story began when the doorbell rang at about 2:30 a.m. My husband was sleeping soundly and my 19-year-old daughter heard the doorbell ring. Confused, she went upstairs and looked out the window. Surprisingly, she saw a close family friend at the door in his Sheriff’s uniform. Half-asleep, at first it didn’t seem strange to her that he was at the door with another man in uniform. She simply said, “Mike, what are you doing here?”
Mike asked to speak to me or my husband. She said I was gone and went to get her dad. Only then did she realize something was wrong. She ran downstairs to her room and fell to her knees in prayer – aware now that something was desperately wrong -- but too scared to listen. At first she thought something had happened to me because I was in Tennessee with her older sister. I guess she didn’t think about the fact Mike had asked to speak to me. She didn’t suspect it was about Heather because the deadbolts were locked when she got home, so she thought Heather was in her bed. She could have stayed upstairs to listen – but her heart couldn’t bear it.
I went to high school with the Sheriff. His wife and I have been friends since elementary school. He and his wife are still my sister’s best friends. We go to church together. We know each other quite well. So what are the odds that he would be one of two Sergeants on duty in our county that night when the call came in from Texas?
It was more than coindidance. The call didn’t even come into Mike’s precinct. But the Sargaent who got the call from the Texas trooper just happened to be on his way to Mike’s precinct to drop off some paperwork. While he was there, he casually mentioned that he had to go to our street to notify parents that their child had been killed in a car accident. Alerted by the street name, Mike asked for the number.
Immediately, he realized it was our family and asked for the name of the child. He knew that he was going to have to tell us personally. He called his wife, who went to my sister’s house and told her. They were already on there way to our house when Mike arrived to tell my husband.
I am still amazed at that small turn of events. It made such a difference for my husband and daughter to know the person who had to deliver such bad news. And Mike stayed with my husband. He called our pastor, who arrived shortly. He helped my husband figure out what to do next. He was more than a sheriff that night. Thank goodness.
We recently obtained Heather’s detailed phone and text log. She began writing and receiving texts the moment she got into the car and basically didn’t stop the entire 7 ½ hours she drove. She made and received over 140 texts while driving that night. I assume that’s how she kept herself entertained. We had repeatedly warned her about texting and driving. But she apparently ignored us.
It was raining all the way from Birmingham to Texas. It had been raining steadily for 3 days and the roads were slick and miserable. At the time of the accident, it was a slow steady rain – the kind that doesn’t wash off the road quickly.
We know that she was driving dangerously fast because she managed to make what should have been a 9 hours and 36 minute drive – not including stops -- in less than 7 ½ hours. At the time and location of the accident, the speed limit was 60 miles per hour. We estimated that she had to average about 82 miles per hour to make that kind of time -- and that assumes she only took a total of 30 minutes for gas, the bathroom, or food over the course of 7 ½ hours.
Unfortunately, Heather had already demonstrated her aggressive driving style. Her friends say it wouldn’t have been unusual for her to drive 85-90 miles per hour at times. And she had gotten her first speeding ticket only months earlier. Ironically, we allowed her to buy my husband’s old PT Cruiser only a month before, in part, because we didn’t think it could drive that fast.
We don’t know where or how often she stopped along the trip because she used cash. Using her debit card would have left a trail. She had already learned that people can tell where you are if you use your debit card!
From something she said, we know that Heather was supposed to stop and spend the night at the boyfriend’s grandparents’ house in Texas – a few hours short of her destination. At 11:57 p.m., her older sister texted her and asked if she was awake and okay. Heather never responded to that text.
But at 12:02 a.m., Heather was talking on the phone to Misty, one of her best friends. Heather was excited and laughing at her wild adventure – saying that she would get in the Guinness Book of World Records for the longest grounding if she got caught. She told Misty that she had just passed the grandparents’ exit and had decided not to stop because she was wide awake and feeling fine.
Misty wasn’t thrilled. Heather had never driven more than an hour at one time and never alone. Misty warned her to slow down – reminding her that she couldn’t afford another speeding ticket. Heather’s last words were something to this effect, “I’m out here all alone and there’s not a cop in sight. It doesn’t matter how fast I drive.” They ended their conversation at 12:07 a.m.
Moments later, Heather found out how wrong she was. Sometime between 12:07 and 12:15, on a dark, rainy, lonely highway near Van, Texas, Heather lost control of her car and hydroplaned. Her car turned sideways and traveled along the road before hitting the grass and turning backwards. The tire marks in the grass show that her car traveled backwards for another 70 feet before the driver’s side door slammed into the concrete base of a light pole - the only solid object in site. Given her speed – she never had a chance.
Her head slammed directly into the concrete pole – breaking her neck and killing her instantly. I can’t imagine any car that would have totally protected her head from that impact. Maybe side impact airbags would have made a difference, but somehow – I doubt it. I think about the car because I always worried about safety.
And it all happened in about 3-4 seconds. The time between the moment she was carelessly enjoying the thrill of the moment and the time her neck was broken and her body was permanently destroyed was only 3-4 seconds. That absolutely astonished me. I think often of how quickly we can move from life to death. But 3-4 seconds is not enough time for anything if you aren’t already prepared for death.
When I imagine the last few seconds of Heather’s life, I doubt that she was the slightest bit scared of dying. I can’t imagine her thinking that she was about to die – only that she was about to mess up the car she so proudly owned! I imagine her saying, “Awww Crap! Now my parents are definitely going to find out I sneaked off to Texas and they are gong to ground me for the rest of my life!”
Her friends say she wouldn’t have said “Crap.”
I think God blessed her by making her travel backwards. Odds are --she never saw the pole. Never knew that she was about to face death. Never had the chance to be terrified. At least, I like to imagine it that way.
The first call to 911 only reported a vehicle on fire. A second 911 call moments later reported that someone was in the car and severely injured. She was pronounced dead on the scene and by the time we learned of the accident, they already knew that she had died instantly of a broken neck.
When I heard the news, I remember thinking how strange it was that they knew that her neck was broken at the scene. That created awful images in my mind of how bad she must have looked. A mother doesn’t want those images – but they come anyway. This was the child I had spent 12 years trying to keep safe. Now it was over.
The State Trooper who was called to the scene of the accident was only 26–years-old and the father of a 17-month old son. He called us the morning after the accident to answer our questions. This was very personal to him. He had never been called to a death accident before and he was upset that his first death was someone so young. He told me, “I shouldn’t have to witness someone younger than me die needlessly.” In a strange way, I felt the need to comfort him. Heather’s accident impacted him profoundly. He thought of his little boy.
He’s the one who told us that the evidence indicated that she was reading or typing a text when she lost control. Perhaps she was trying to tell Taz that she was awake and fine. But it doesn’t really matter. He’s the one who gave us the details of the accident, as best he could piece them together. He’s the one who told us that she was dead instantly and that they had decided not to obtain the information from the crash recorder under the engine because no other car was involved and they didn’t need it for evidence. When I questioned him about her likely speed, he’s the one who said it didn’t make any difference. The speed limit was 60 miles per hour, but she would have died whether she was going 75 or 90. And she was speeding either way.
So basically, Heather was doing pretty much everything wrong and dangerous you could cram into one bad decision. And she paid the ultimate price. We always told her that there are some mistakes you don’t recover from. This was clearly one of them.
It’s been nine weeks today and I haven’t looked at the car. I have barely even looked at the stuff that was in the car. Another friend took care of that so we didn’t have to see the blood. And I haven’t been to the accident site. It’s still too much.
As I think back, I recall a very specific prayer request just a few days before Heather died. The Wednesday before her accident, I begged God not to let my kids die in a car accident. I told Him that I had worked way too hard to have them die that way. I just couldn’t handle it.
This plea came after I witnessed Heather’s dangerous driving habits. While driving my 15-passenger van on a busy 6-lane highway near our house, I got into the left turn lane. While I was waiting on traffic to clear, I heard someone frantically honking from behind. I looked in my side mirror and there was Heather in her PT Cruiser with a huge smile on her face – waving at me to say hello! I waved back.
At this particular location, you have to make a legal u-turn to reach certain businesses. I made mine and because of the size of my car had to wait for all three lanes to clear so I could pull all the way to the far outside lane to make the u-turn.
Moments later, I glanced in my side view mirror and I saw Heather make a u-turn, cutting off a car coming at her at 55 miles per hour - as if there was no one there. The car she cut off had to slam on his brakes to avoid smashing into her. I could see the fear in his face even in my mirror.
But Heather never stopped smiling - seemingly unaware of the brush with death she had just barely escaped.
She was not the least bit afraid. Or she simply didn’t care. But I did. I was furious. And scared. I pulled into the parking lot and called her immediately. “Heather, what were you thinking? You almost got killed by that black SUV.”
Her response wasn’t surprising, “There was no black SUV. It was a white truck and I waited for it.”
“No Heather. The white truck was turning right into traffic across from you. The black SUV was coming at you from the side in the center lane and you pulled out right in front of him. He had to slam on his brakes and swerve to miss you. “
I believe that she didn’t see the SUV. Although she had been driving for 2 years, she thought she was a good driver and had things under control. She was probably focused on the car across from her – losing sight and memory of the cars coming from the side.
When we got home, I tried to demonstrate to Heather what I saw happen with a salt and pepper shaker and a knife. I demonstrated three times before she understood what happened.
And all she said was, “Mom, I’m just an aggressive driver. If I see my opportunity, I take it.”
In my typically blunt way, I said, “That wasn’t aggressive. That was stupid. You are going to get killed. No, worse yet – you are going to kill someone else and you’ll live. That will be hell.” I was so angry. Because I was so scared for her.
I was pretty sure God missed my prayer – or ignored it. Of course, now I know that I can handle my child dying in a car accident, but I still don’t like it. And it was such a needless way for her to die. It didn’t have to be this way.
So, even though Heather didn’t physically end her own life on purpose – as she said in one of her journal entries – she was dying inside. And she lived as if she didn’t care if she died. Maybe that was because she was clearly sure of her place beside God in Heaven. Or maybe it was because - even though she didn’t want to intentionally kill herself - she didn’t really mind if it happened.
Heather had been living on the edge for years. She said she was fearless. But I knew the truth. She was afraid. She said she was adventurous. But I saw my little girl taking extreme risks just so she could feel something. Anything. She suffered from hurt so deep that I couldn’t fix it. Hurt that my love couldn’t cover. Hurt that stayed with her almost every minute of every day.
And so the story of her life on earth ends. But her life lives on for me in the words she left behind. And that is the story I want us to tell you together...
