Meanderings and Musings of a Cluttered Mind

This is the picture. It's the one I see in my mind when I really don’t want to, the one that will always be there and never go away. It’s the car the driver drove, while talking on her cell phone, that hit my son, who was pedaling his bicycle home from work, that amputated his leg and killed him. His name is Devin. I’m not really sure how long he lived after he was hit, as the driver kept driving with him on the car for 800 feet and didn’t stop for three-quarters of a mile, and didn’t call 911 until … when?  According to her police statement, she was on the phone. Her phone records show there were three calls to or from her boyfriend at 12:34 a.m., 12:35 a.m. and 12:45 a.m. She told police the crash happened shortly after the first phone call. She said she heard someone say, “Hello,” then she closed her eyes for a long blink and heard a bang. If the crash happened shortly after the first phone call, that means it happened after 12:34 a.m. but before 12:35 a.

Thirteen months and 23 days after my son was killed, I sat across the table from a GEICO employee who wanted to hear about Devin. I didn't plan to cry. But I didn't plan on my son getting killed by a driver on a cell phone on Aug. 7, 2011, while riding his bicycle home from work, either. We already lived through months of agonizing preparation for a criminal trial on negligent homicide, only to see the D.A. drop the charges and instead issue a ticket for inattentive driving. The 18-year-old driver paid a fine of $100. But now -- finally -- it seemed, GEICO wanted to do the right thing. This isn't about money for us. It's never been about money. It's certainly not about hitting the one-armed bandit jackpot. It was simply about the principle of respecting human life, and paying what they were accountable to pay, so we could find a way to honor Devin and use that money to save other lives. It was just so someone on the other side of this would say, "Yes, human