Chasm (eBook)

1

In a Moment

The morning my entire life changed, I knew something was different. From the moment I woke up, something felt off—really off.

My eyes were crusty, and my eyelids opened sluggishly. Everything seemed under a fog of sedation. My body was heavy and hurt everywhere. Opening my eyes took real effort. What I didn’t know at the time is my subconscious was holding onto the last seconds of peace before any shred of innocence that remained in my life vanished.

I looked at the television that jutted from the wall in this unfamiliar room and saw a news reporter out on a country road somewhere, reporting on what looked like a bad wreck. They showed a car, completely smashed up and cut open. It looked something like my car. I noticed a white sheet on the ground next to the car—the kind used to cover dead bodies. The camera showed flashing lights and chalk marking different details around the crash. I could see what looked like investigators all around. It seemed like I was part of this but didn’t know why.

I went to rub my face, and as I began to move my arm, it quickly stopped with the clanky sound of a heavy metal chain. It was only then that I felt a cold piece of steel around my wrist. As I moved to look, I realized I couldn’t move my neck. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw what was holding my wrist: handcuffs.

An unfamiliar man’s voice right next to me said, “Look who woke up.” He had a noticeably sarcastic tone, one that sounded quite irritated with me.

Why is there a police officer sitting next to me, and why am I in this strange bed?

Why am I handcuffed to the bed rail?

Why can’t I move my neck?

What does this news story have to do with this?

To say the whole thing was overwhelming would be an understatement. My body felt all banged up. My neck was in a brace, and I couldn’t move my head. Handcuffs restrained me to the bed, and a police officer was sitting in a chair next to me.

I’d had better mornings.

The officer said, “Look, killer, you’re famous!”

I looked back at the TV, and my picture was on the screen while an investigator gave a statement. What the hell is going on? I asked myself.

Over the next few minutes, the officer filled me in on the details of the past few days. I learned that I had caused a horrific car crash, killed two people, and was in the hospital under police custody. The State’s Attorney was about to indict me on two counts of second-degree murder.

Am I going to wake up soon? It’s just a nightmare…right?

It turns out it was a nightmare but not one you ever wake up from.

The evening before had begun like many others. I recently arrived in Orlando to start Navy Nuclear Power school and went out for a few drinks with my friend Mike. We decided to go to another bar at some point, so we jumped into my car and headed on our way. As I crossed the road to enter the parking lot of our destination on the other side, I felt the impact of another vehicle. Before I could register what was happening, a woman jumped out and started screaming at me. I panicked and hit the gas, driving away from her screaming and the scene of the minor accident. It wasn’t long before I realized what a stupid move that was. Mike and I agreed that this was going to be a mess for our Navy careers. So, we came up with a “brilliant” plan to ditch the car and claim it stolen. No one would ever have to know!

I was speeding along on a back road when I saw what looked like police lights behind us, approaching in the distance. Instead of taking responsibility for leaving the minor accident and pulling over, I further escalated the situation by speeding up. And that’s the last thing I remember.

From accounts of the accident, I was traveling well over 100 miles an hour when I lost control of the car, struck an oncoming vehicle, and flipped multiple times. Mike was ejected from the car and died. The oncoming driver, an unsuspecting woman driving home alone, was killed on impact. I somehow survived the accident with a fractured neck and a lot of bruises and abrasions.

In a moment’s time, I became the devil.

Back in the hospital bed, still handcuffed and in pain, my mother came walking into the room. I immediately saw the look on her face and the tears in her eyes, which confirmed that this was all too real. I wasn’t dreaming.

It’s been more than thirty years since that day, but I still remember the feelings coursing through me: disbelief, horror, massive regret, shock, pain, disappointment, and on and on. Humans are capable of so much, but this seemed like too much. In ten minutes, I went from being asleep to learning I killed two innocent people in a display of utter stupidity and irresponsibility. On top of that, I was lying in a hospital bed under police custody.

As the story of the crash, my medical condition, and the details of my criminal charges began to unfold over the next few hours, I realized my life as a twenty-year-old had changed forever. I didn’t get to be sad or hurt. I was a monster in both the world’s eyes and my own.

In those first few hours, I genuinely wished I’d died in the accident. I would have eagerly traded my life for those I’d just ended. At the very least, I wished I had joined them.

I stayed in the hospital for most of the week and was released from the hospital on bail. My mom had returned home to Connecticut, and a friend picked me up to take me back to the base.

He told me the military police had come to clear out all my things, and I was now living in temporary barracks. It was the place all misfits stayed while the Navy figured out what to do with unfit sailors.

In the days that followed, I hobbled around with my physical and mental wounds. Sleep was scarce, and when I did fall asleep, it wasn’t long before the horror of the accident would overwhelm me. Many times, I would wake up sweating and screaming in the middle of the night. My roommates all asked to be transferred to another room, so they could sleep.

I was indicted on second-degree murder charges, leaving the scene of an accident and fleeing and eluding a police officer. It was the first time the State of Florida sought murder charges due to a vehicular death, but they said my behavior of leaving the scene of the minor accident and running from the police warranted it. At the time, second-degree murder carried a mandatory sentence of twenty-five years, so I was facing a minimum of fifty years in prison. While I’d had a couple of drinks that night, my blood alcohol level was inadmissible because I received blood in the emergency room. The State contended that the alcohol didn’t contribute to the accident anyway because I needed to be cognizant for second-degree murder charges to stick.

Over the next six months, my case moved through the legal system. Finally, the state attorney and my lawyer came to a plea agreement for two counts of culpable negligence manslaughter. I accepted the plea bargain, and we prepared for sentencing. Under the Florida Sentencing Guidelines, the judge was to sentence me to seven to twelve years in prison. The Navy maintained their right to try me in military court if they deemed the civilian punishment inadequate.

My attorney hired an expert to write a proposal on alternative sentencing that presented the argument that prison had little benefit to society or me and that I was unlikely to commit another crime. It sounded great, and I was hopeful, but my attorney cautioned me to prepare for prison.

Feeling completely unprepared to be an inmate, I decided I needed to learn how to defend myself. I went to a local boxing gym and told the owner I was headed to prison. Joe, the owner, had heard of my accident and agreed to teach me some things that might help me defend myself, maybe even save my life.

A few weeks before my sentencing, I went by the gym for my last session. In the middle of the lesson, Joe grabbed my balls with his left hand and my throat with his right and drove me into the padded wall with what felt like all his strength. As I stood, pinned and stunned, he told me, “You ain’t going to be the biggest or the toughest in there, and when it comes right down to it, fuck the fancy shit. Grab his balls and his throat, and find something really hard to smash his skull against until his brains are on the Goddamn ground.” The lesson was duly noted, and I felt slightly more prepared for what was ahead of me. It turns out Joe’s lesson was one I’d need.

My dad had been diagnosed with bladder cancer and was having his bladder removed in Boston. The court allowed me to travel to be with him during his ten-hour surgery. He came through surgery well, and after a few days of visiting, I returned to Florida for an extended stay. “The end of the line,” you might say.

The base had a center for alcohol education, and they assigned me to work there once my body recovered enough. The women who worked there accepted me with open arms. We talked about all kinds of things, and before long, I began attending AA and NA. I went to a few meetings a week, got a sponsor, and worked the twelve steps.

I learned the serenity prayer and have recited it to myself almost every day since.

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things that I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

I went to some tough AA meetings, and the stories of repeated struggle and absolute self-destruction stuck with me. I saw with my own...