Have you met the driver? How was it? This is my families story....
It’s 888 days since the accident and last night I barely slept. This is more stressful than the trial. What if Andrea is just a drug addict who won’t admit she has a problem and won’t do anything about it? I’ve pushed my family towards this meeting and what will they get out of it? She might be the only one to benefit from this, by getting out of jail.
You could cut the air in the room with a knife as we waited for Andrea to arrive. The family always arrive first so that the ‘offender’ has to walk in watched by the already seated family, like a modern day version of the walk of shame. Everyone avoided eye contact.
The conference, which was to run for five harrowing hours, began. Andrea was the first to speak, although she didn't reveal much more than what she had already said at the trial. She said that after the accident they were asking about Dad at the hospital, but because of privacy issues, they wouldn't tell them. She found out he'd died when a friend read it in the paper.
We asked her why she refused to make a statement to the police after the accident. She said she didn’t refuse and that she had told the police she couldn’t get to the station because she was sick. She said she’d told them to come to the house, but it never eventuated. She said she was expecting to see a policeman in hospital, but she never saw one. She said “I haven’t seen one policeman in two and a half years”. The next day Mum rang the major crash unit and they said Andrea’s lawyer told them she wouldn't answer questions. Who does one believe?
Andrea said her lawyer told her to plead not guilty and also not to contact us, both of which she regrets. She acknowledged that she was responsible for the accident and that she would drop the appeal. She said “enough is enough, this has gone on to long”.
We went around the circle and talked about the affects the accident had on us as individuals. They say when you lose a parent, you lose your past. When you lose a partner, you lose the present. When you lose a child, you lose your future.
Before Nanna began to talk about the impact on her she launched into a question she had obviously wanted to ask for a while: ‘Whilst you were sitting in the gutter, why didn’t you ask about my son?” Andrea said, “I was in shock. I had no idea he was hurt and I didn’t know the extent of his injuries. If I could have helped I would have, I was bleeding profusely.” Nanna replied. “You didn’t know because you didn’t ask!” Andrea wasn’t going to stand up for herself and she simply replied “OK”.
Nanna had lost a son, and a friend. How does a parent ever get over that? As well as being her creation, he was also the person who looked after her, his presence in the next suburb over gave her comfort and constant reassurance. He was only a phone call away and since the accident she had never felt so isolated and alone.
Mum had lost a husband, security and a set routine. Although their relationship was turbulent, he was still “her person”, the person who supported her in times like these…. Suddenly, at 58 she was alone, and single for the first time in 34 years, learning to do everything on her own.
Dianne said: “Not till the trial did we hear about morphine. You jump to the extreme; a junkie hit him! It wasn’t an accident! Those questions come up. I’m not saying you’re a junkie, but I swing. Ask me day to day week to week and I’ll give you a different answer.”
Andrea replied, “I feel like a junkie, always sick and taking medication. I’m so fed up. I don’t take it to feel good. So much has been cut from my life already, I don’t want to be off my tree on medication. I’d rather be living my life. If knee surgery is an option I’d look at it.”
Apart from that we skirted around the topic of her addiction. No one really questioned her. I needed her to trust me to allow me to tell her story, so I didn’t dig. I felt trapped by my need to get the story and my need to get the truth. It has never been my intent to slam her, but she doesn’t know that. All she knows is that I’m the daughter of the person she killed and I want to wave a camera in her face and ask her lots of personal questions. Not too many people would trust that or want to engage with that.
Prior to the conference Debbie had asked Andrea if I could film the conference. She was unsure. During the first break I asked her if we could film. She said no, and I was very upset. I thought I was losing my film. How could I tell my families story without telling hers? How does one make sense without the other? I couldn't imagine what I would do if I couldn't finish my film? I would be adrift, without my anchor.
We started to talk about the future, and what everyone wanted. Andrea said she couldn’t stop taking the morphine because she is practically bedridden with bowel injuries she sustained in the accident. She has intense pain from her bowels and knees. She can't face another knee operation, she is sick and tired of people prodding and poking at her.
When it came to sentencing no one really wanted to speak up. Nanna was icy, but wouldn’t say a word. Andrea didn't want to say what was a good punishment. How could she? She admitted she didn't want to go to jail.
She said she would go to schools and educate kids about cars being weapons. Her Mum mentioned that perhaps she could go to pain clinics. It seems that although Andrea had ruled out morphine, her mother hasn’t. Andrea said no to clinics because she thinks it's unrelated.
There have been no tests done on the effect of driving on high levels of morphine. We agreed that we would write to politicians and universities to request such tests.
Andrea agreed to talk to me about doing the documentary.
We were all exhausted.
Written on 15 Aug 2006
Over 8 years since incident
Tags:
Restorative justice, conference
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