Victim Impact Statement

I’m standing before you today to try to convey what the loss of my daughter means to me, my wife, my son, our families and to all of the people who knew Evelyn.

I am here to do what I have done for Evelyn so many times before; I am here to stand up for her, to defend her, and to try and show you what kind of a person Evelyn was and what was taken from us all.

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On the morning of June 20, 2013, on my way to catch the bus to work, I walked across the intersection of Midway and Poway Roads looking at the remains of a red car up on the curb and resting against the pedestrian light, a San Diego County fire truck halfway on the curb a few dozen feet from the intersection and the wreck. I heard of the accident and fatality on the radio upon waking. By the time I left my home that morning, I knew that my daughter was not home, and that our dog was missing. I remember as I looked across the intersection, looking through the yellow tape, and into the driver side of the car, seeing a blue paper blanket lying on the seat. I assumed that the driver was the sole fatality and the only occupant of the car. I boarded the number 820 bus and went to work. I felt sadness for the family of the fatality, not knowing at that time that the family would be my own.

My wife called me, barely able to breath. She told me I need to come home, that the Sheriff was at our house. They wouldn’t say what it was about, but we both knew.

I rode silently in the car with my friend and our boss, trying to control my breathing. Trying to control my thoughts and try to convince myself of what I already knew in my heart to be true. Evelyn was dead.

I stood across the room from my wife as she told me through her tears that Evelyn was the person in the accident. The Deputy stood up and like so many scenes I had seen in movies and television, he shook my hand and told me how that Evelyn was gone. He told me how sorry he was. I sat next to my wife and listened to the Medical Examiner and the Deputy tell us what they knew. The only thing I can remember asking was, “Did she suffer?”

Our son was at school. I waited in the driveway for him to come home. This was the second time in six weeks that I was to tell him that someone dear to him had passes away. Just the previous month, we had to put down our other dog, a member of our family for 13 years. The waiting seemed like hours. My son came around the corner of the street, saw the sheriff’s cars and stopped his bike. I wave for him to come home. I looked him in the eye as I told him that Evelyn had been involved in the accident from that morning and that she was killed and that she had our other remaining dog with her and that he was killed too. My son, my wife, and I stood in our driveway holding each other and sobbed.