Some of Everything and More

Wow. Very emotional last couple of weeks due to some unforeseen situations and some that were planned. In order from two weeks ago today:

*Dustin’s father recently found out about Dustin’s death and contacted me after 16-17 years.

*I had a confrontation with a pet owner on Eagle Creek while hiking and proved my craziness to several people including my daughter and my sister who probably wondered who the heck the stranger was they’d been hiking with.  

*I met with Ashawntae, the young man who killed Dustin.

*Someone I love told me that they were arrested for DUII just minutes before the one year anniversary of Dustin’s death.

*We remembered Dustin’s birthday (he would have been 30!).

9 lb, 9 oz Dustin. 20.5 inches long. 11/11/82.

*Glenn and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary in beautiful Port Townsend and Coupeville, Washington. 

*I spoke at my second Clackamas DUII class.

*I met with a group of people to brainstorm and support each other in making our dreams come true (hosted by Tyler Presnell, a young motivational speaker traveling the US telling of his experiences with traumatic brain injury due to a bad car crash when he was 14).

Talk about ups and downs. All of it has just made me even more determined to make a difference. And to make something more of myself. And to do what I like and what I want and what I believe is right. Maybe it’s finally sinking in that I really do need to make the most of life. For my own happiness but also because it is really what I want for my children, and maybe if I role model that it will be easier for them. I will forever be grateful to Dustin for being the first to show us how to live by being true to himself and by pursuing what he believed in so whole-heartedly.

I am so appreciative and grateful for all I have learned from my children - not only Dustin - and from Glenn and for learning what is really important in life.  Dustin, Colin, Sean, Tom, Logan, Eryn, and Jenna, thank you!  And thanks for bringing Lisa, Justin, and Cruz into our lives, too. 

July 4, 2011. Logan, Jenna, Dustin, me, Glenn.

November 2011. Lisa, Colin, Sean, Tom, Logan, me, Glenn.

 And Glenn, I am so happy to be your wife.

Grieving Mother, Convicted Killer Meet

Dustin wasn’t allowed to attend the meeting yesterday with the person who killed him. Prison officials said no to the urn; it was too risky an item. 

Urn. Wooden, because he would like that.

 

I told Glenn it must be because they were afraid I’d throw it at Ashawntae. Glenn joked that the prison didn’t want this headline: Mother Assaults Son’s Killer, With Son. Sometimes gallows humor is helpful to ease tension.  

On 12/21/11, 18 year old Ashawntae Rosemon pled guilty to Criminally Negligent Homicide, Felony Hit and Run, DUII, and Vehicular Assault of a Bicyclist (for Kevin). He was sentenced to 60 months, with the possibility of time off (12 months) for good behavior. He agreed in the plea deal that he would participate in the Facilitated Dialogue Program; namely, that he would meet with Dustin’s family.

 

Legal proceedings. Picture courtesy of Jonathan Maus/bikeportland.org

 

So, Glenn and I met with him yesterday.  Ashawntae is 19 now and the father of an 8 month old son. He’s a nice looking man. After shaking hands, he sat on one side of a conference table and we sat on the other, the facilitators by our sides. 

Because the victim is the one who has to instigate the FDP, the victim is the one who starts the dialogue itself. A few days ago I watched a motivational video with the message “Start with Why.” The why, of course, is Dustin. I shared who Dustin was, what he cared about, what he did, what he meant to others; I showed pictures. Ashawntae asked questions, told us what he thinks and how he feels and what he’s wondered about. He gave us his version of that horrible night. He talked about life in prison, a typical day, programs he’s involved in. He explained his hopes for the future and why. 

Because of confidentiality rules, we can’t disclose anything that was said specifically. But it was a good experience, better than good. We left feeling that he genuinely was sorry for what had happened, that he cared and was interested in who Dustin was and who we are and what we are going through, and that he understands he has a great opportunity to change the course of his life, which he intends to take. And I made it clear that if he doesn’t, if he messes up again, we will be there to make sure he suffers harsher consequences. 

We were told the program, the “dialogue,” is now over. It is a one time deal. Oregon law is that it is illegal for offenders and victims to have contact, except through this dialogue. But I’m going to push for more. I don’t know how or where, but one contact was not enough and since it was beneficial to both parties and I think would continue to be beneficial, there’s got to be a way. I intend to find one.

For anyone inclined to be supportive of Ashawntae’s well-being and future success as a parent and a productive member of society, please send positive thoughts his way.  We are.

Confronting a Killer

I anticipate tomorrow being one of the most emotional of my life: meeting the man who killed Dustin, face to face. 

When the legal case was still in the works, after the Deputy District Attorney explained why she suggested a plea deal, she told me to tell her what I wanted in that deal. I researched what options I might have, with a goal of holding Dustin’s killer accountable while at the same time helping him now and in his future life. Yes, I was thinking rehabilitation, enlightenment, and support for Ashawntae. After all, he wasn’t going to be in prison forever, just a few years.

I stumbled onto The Facilitated Dialogue Program through the Oregon Dept. of Corrections. The goal is a face to face meeting where “a crime victim/survivor could engage in a safe and meaningful dialogue process with the inmate who harmed them.” 

I read the following article: http://www.oregon.gov/DOC/OMR/religious_services/docs/general_rs_documents/rshealinginahardplace.pdf

I asked myself: did I really want to meet the person who stole Dustin’s life? Could I handle it? What did I hope to gain from it? What if I didn’t get what I hoped? Would Ashawntae want to meet with me? What if it ended badly? What if? What if? What if? 

After much thinking about it, after discussing it with the Deputy DA (who’d never heard it), I decided it was worth putting this requirement into the plea agreement. And the defendant accepted – after his own what ifs, probably. Or maybe not, maybe accepting having to meet with me was a simple decision when it came to deciding between possibly being convicted of Manslaughter in a trial or pleading to Criminally Negligent Homicide. 

Click below for a:
Great article about Ashawntae Rosemon's sentencing 

Ashawntae having to face Dustin, at least this one time

However. The time is now. If you’ve read the article I linked, you know what I’ve gone through so far. It really has been like described. Emily is even one of our facilitators! 

I am so nervous. I have my outline of what I want to talk about, what I can’t forget to say.  I’m the one who starts the dialogue, but what do I want to start with? What should be the first words I say to the man who took away Dustin’s precious life? I know I want Ashawntae to know who Dustin was, how important he was to so many, the dreams he had for his future that he will never be able to fulfill. I want him to know how the loss of those dreams, those actions, that life, impact me as his mother because I was invested in them as well. Twenty-nine years investment destroyed in a single instant by a stranger with no thought but for himself. 

I want him to know that I’m not the only one hurt. Dustin’s family, Dustin’s friends, classmates, acquaintances.,. And what about Ashawntae’s own family, friends, acquaintances? I’ve even thought about the man who owned the vehicle he was driving. According to the police report, the SUV was totaled. But the owner still had to make a decision about its disposition, right? And he had to think that his vehicle killed someone. And his insurance paid burial benefits and a personal injury settlement for a fatality. Maybe his insurance rates went up.

You can't see the damage to the SUV, but it's there

I’ll tell him how I have PTSD sometimes, how somehow a large part of me died with Dustin. I don’t know myself anymore, don’t know how to predict how I’ll feel about something, aren’t even able to predict what is going to come out of my mouth anymore. In all these DUII and High Risk Driver classes I go to, I’ve heard that people with brain damage have lost their “filters,” they just say whatever they want with no thought to how it sounds to others. And they are angry. Perhaps grief causes a little bit of brain damage.  I don’t know about that, but I do know I am largely not who I used to be. And I don’t like it.

I’m a little scattered. Can you tell? 

This event is probably just going to be one of those things that no matter how you prepare for them, you can’t prepare for every eventuality. People want to know how I feel. I don’t know, How will I feel after this is over? I don’t know. Hopefully relief. Hopefully I’ll know then how to feel about Ashawntae instead of this confusion, this up and down, back and forth mind scrambling angst. 

I can hope.

Why Him and Why Then?

Yesterday we hiked. Our family likes to hike and camp. Dustin was our motivator because he loved the outdoors. Hiking and camping with Dustin was always fun, but it wasn’t fun at all times because he was a risk-taker and he also loved to go off on his own…usually without telling anyone that he was. We would just all of a sudden notice he was gone. Sometimes he would be gone for hours. Sometimes for so long we would wonder with sinking guts if it was time to notify search and rescue. 

Dustin during hike for sister's birthday, 7/30/11

And sometimes Dustin would tell scary stories, such as that he climbed to the summit of Mt St Helens by himself, without telling anyone he was going to, without the required permit. He wrote a journal entry some years ago about biking from Vancouver to Hamilton Mt in the Columbia River Gorge, about 40-45 miles one way, hiking Hamilton with an elevation gain of 2100 feet in 4 miles, then biking back home. (He was amazingly fit!) 

View from Hamilton Mt taken by sister Jenna during the Memorial Hike 8/12/12

Highway 14, the Lewis and Clark Highway, is a twisty, hilly road with speed limits between 25 and 50, a nice road for motor vehicles. There are abundant roadside viewpoints and it is just a beautiful ride that we’ve enjoyed many, many times. Now that Dustin’s been killed on his bike, now that I’ve read that journal entry, however, I can’t go on this road without looking at how curvy it is, with no shoulder whatsoever in many places and so many blind spots, and I think, “I could understand it here, him being killed here. It would make sense.” I actually feel angry that he took the risk to ride this road. I feel angry after his death that he took this risk even though he survived it. Feelings are a funny thing.

And then those thoughts lead to what actually happened to him and how I just still “don’t get it.”  He lived through riding on the Lewis and Clark Highway yet was killed while riding on a straight, flat, wide road (2 traffic lanes each way, a center turn lane, two parking lanes, two bikes lanes) with little traffic at 1:00 a.m. There are lights on Division and a sign directly above the crash site urges people to drive safely. He lived through irresponsible hiking and risky biking, but was killed while he was safely, legally riding down a road designed for bikes. 

 

I remember talking with Dustin a few times about needing to tell people where he was going, to take someone else with him. I remember saying to him that there might come a day that he would just disappear and no one would know where he’d been or what he was doing and we would wonder if his disappearance was because of his own behavior or if someone else had done something to him. Where would we start looking, Dustin? I said.

I miss my son. And 14 ½ months later I still don’t understand it, I still don’t think it’s fair, and I still don’t want to believe it. I am never going to see my child or talk to him ever again, Sometimes the pain is so great I just want to die. (But I won’t. I have other children and my husband and other family. And, I know Dustin would want me to live my life as fully as possible. And I do have good times).

Deliberately Driving Badly

I could have killed a kid yesterday. Me, who speaks to high risk and drunk drivers multiple times monthly; who thinks about the dangers of driving nearly constantly; who has learned the agonizingly hard way how important being a safe, responsible driver is.

I was just doing what we all do every day: making a right turn on a red light. And this wasn’t a situation where I almost stopped like so many people do. I had been stopped for at least 30 seconds. No one had come from the left for some time. So I started to go... and then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the skateboarder in the crosswalk, coming from the right, where I wasn’t even looking. Obviously. Really, I didn’t even come close to hitting him, but it was still jarring. I stopped, he skated past, I did the apologetic hand gesture and “sorry” look, and as my eyes followed him, I noticed the crosswalk light beyond, giving him the right of way. 

My new pessimistic, PTSD-inclined self plays the possible media coverage in my head: Kristi Finney, mother of a bicyclist killed while riding in a bike lane, mowed down a skateboarder in the crosswalk. I go on to think of all the horrendous injuries (or death!) that could possibly be inflicted, maybe there was a dragging of the young man under the car or he hit the windshield (like Dustin), witness descriptions of the horror they’d seen, the reporter saying the police had arrested me for negligent driving/failure to yield/who knows what…

Bicyclist from Vancouver killed in Portland hit and run; man arrested

Dustin Finney was college student, wanted to be forest ranger

By John Branton and Paul Suarez
Columbian staff writers

Originally published August 13, 2011 at 12:01 a.m., updated August 12, 2011 at 10:24 p.m.

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The Columbian coverage

But honestly, the first thought that came to me when I wrote that I almost hit a skateboarder in the crosswalk, was imagining the comments people might make. There would be the ones who commiserated with both sides: a horrible tragedy. There would be the ones blaming me. And, the most unsettling, and I know this without a doubt, there would be people blaming the teenager in the crosswalk who was crossing on his green. Those damn pedestrians, they’re so hard to see. And he was on a skateboard, so he probably just came out of nowhere, moving faster than a regular pedestrian. Roads are for cars, damn it!

The main reason for this particular post, though, isn’t even about me. It’s about that strange indifference to highway carnage that I wrote about several days ago. It’s about people making the conscious decision to drive badly. Maybe you’re thinking, well, who would do that? Almost everyone, and often. On my facebook page alone, within 2 days, I read about someone driving 50 on a 35 mph road in a residential neighborhood that passes two schools and a popular fast food joint AND someone planning to “drive like a mad dog” 150 miles. 

(6) These deliberately bad drivers are just regular people like you and me. They are you and me. (Well, hopefully not me anymore). I think the reasons we do this are multiple and it’s about our beliefs: we believe “it won’t happen” to us. We believe we drive better than everyone else. We believe we can handle things we question other people’s ability to handle (using the phone, driving after drinking, speeding, etc). We believe our vehicles have the protection in place to keep us safe if someone else does something to us (which they won’t, because we believe it can’t happen to us). We believe we have a right, or at least a reason, to drive a particular illegal way at particular times.

(7) And what I think is the most truthful reason we deliberately drive dangerously: We believe our needs are more important than other people’s needs… or rights.  As a matter of fact, I think – I believe – most of us, most of the time, are not even thinking about others at all. Speeding? Gotta be first? Gotta answer that phone call or text? Gotta run that red light because you’ve been sitting there a couple minutes and the green wasn’t long enough? Gotta tailgate the car that’s only going 5 miles over the speed limit instead of the 10-15-20 that you want to go even though they’re passing slower traffic and they can’t move out of your way right then? 

 

September 5, 2012. A 35 year old woman in a Suburban, trying to pass, hit the right front of the red Vibe, causing it to swerve into oncoming traffic, where it struck the Jeep head on. The 22 year old Vibe driver was killed, the 52 year old driver of the Jeep suffered serious injuries.  Oregon State Police news release

I have probably done every one of those things, and more, except the last one. Once I thought about it – once I learned the hard way – I realized I deliberately drove badly even when I didn’t need to. Even when by doing so I’d get where I was going early, for example. 

So who are these other people whose needs and rights we are not even thinking about? The other drivers on the road, obviously. The pedestrians, the bicyclists. The other people in your car: your parents, your children, your best friend, your co-worker, Grandma. Witnesses. Your loved ones not in your car. The loved ones of everyone in all of the cars around you. The police, firefighters, paramedics who respond to vehicle crashes. The prosecutors and judges who are put in the position of having to see what people do to each other and then having to decide what to do about it.

That’s not even a comprehensive list. But had we thought about any of them as we put the pedal to the metal while engaging in potentially dangerous behavior? No, because we… go back to paragraphs 6 and 7. 

I believe it is every person’s responsibility to consciously drive the very best that they can. Even our very best is going to fall short at times, like my wake up close call yesterday. “Accidents” happen, but most of what people refer to as “accidents” aren’t. 

Drive safe. For everyone’s sake.