October 3, 1987, The Day Our Lives Changed Forever

If you've been wondering where I've been or why I haven't written in several days, it's because I've been trying to write this post. It is one hardest things I've ever written. I've written and deleted it about a dozen times over the last few days. 

On October 3, 1987, my childhood came to a screeching halt. My innocence was gone. And over the next few years, my faith in our justice system and our country would be rocked. 

My dad and his sister, Brenda Carter Dirago,
on her wedding day

On October 3, 1987, Brenda Carter Dirago, my aunt, my godmother, my dad's sister, was killed. A beautiful, happy, vibrant, 29-year-old newlywed was ripped from our lives because some guy had to spend an entire day at a bar drinking, then drive himself home. Speeding down a rain soaked street, he crossed the double yellow line, crashing head first into her car.  She had just enough time to say to her husband, "What is this guy doing?"

This was before the days of airbags. Her seat belt did nothing to help her. Her chest was crushed by the steering wheel. She had massive head injuries.  There was no way she could have survived. 

Over the years I have written about Aunt Brenda a lot. I have given speeches at anti-drunk driving rallies.  It's been 28 years and I've been telling this story for most of my life.

The drunk driver, Thomas Corbin, was never punished for his crime. It was a pretty big deal at the time. It was on the news, in The New York Times, Inside Edition interviewed my family. The case went all the way to the Supreme Court which decided in a split decision that this man had paid for his crime with a $350 fine. My aunt's life for $350 bucks. I still can't let that go.

Now, decades later, this is just some old Supreme Court case that law students learn about, law reviews write about and defense lawyers use as precedent to help their criminal clients.  It's easy for other people to forget that an actual person was killed here.  Aunt Brenda is still gone. She is still loved. She is still missed. She is still grieved. Our pain hasn't gone away. 

Why do I think writing about Aunt Brenda is different for me this year?  Because I'm tired. I'm tired of talking about criminals who get set free or never get sent to jail at all because of some legal loophole, some mistake by prosecutors, some screw up by the investigators, or because of some deal their lawyers got for them.  The man who killed my aunt didn't pull out a gun and shoot her. He didn't kill her with his own hands. But what difference does it make?  The end result is the same. He still killed her.  She's still dead.

I love our country. But we need to fix our criminal justice system. It makes me angry that a man who killed an unarmed teen can be walking the streets and posting crazy stuff on social media. It makes me sad that a football star who knocks his wife unconscious on video can get the charges dropped by going to counseling. And it makes me furious that the guy who decided to drink in a bar all day and drive himself home on October 3, 1987 is still living his life, never facing any real punishment for killing one of the kindest, gentlest people I have ever had the privilege to know. 

I miss you, Aunt Brenda. I love you and will see you again, one day. 

Everyone else, please, don't drink and drive!!!!




(I didn't get into all the legal stuff, or why the guy was able to kill my aunt and only get a $350 fine. Please, take a look at this New York Times  article for the explanation.)