Each time I sit down to write a submission of any sort, my intent is to leave the audience with new knowledge, a different insight, some sort of motivation…this week I am not only striving for those goals but I am also seeking help from the public.
Regardless of what happens in life whether good news, stunning news or otherwise- there is often a witness. Sometimes their observations can provide a critical clue that may be beneficial to another.
As a child I could see on the faces of my parents that when the telephone rang after what was considered a reasonable hour (usually 9:00 pm) for calling someone’s home, this was a sign that something may be wrong. I have found myself carrying this belief into my own life. So, when my husband’s cell phone rang at 10:30 pm four-days ago and upon answering he briefly heard the sound of our oldest daughter’s voice- that is away at college before being disconnected, I suspected something might be going on.
Two- minutes later, our home line rang, and I grabbed the telephone. My husband picked up another phone downstairs, as we heard our daughter’s frazzled voice. Quickly informing her we both were on the line, we listened intently to see what was next. “Mom, Dad,” she said “ Shayla and I have just been involved in a hit and run accident, the driver never stopped, and I think the car is totaled.”
The atmosphere suddenly went from what I thought would be an evening of laziness and winding down to one of chaos as we learned the details of what had transpired on the intersection of Meridian Street and Telegram Road in Bellingham, Washington. I have since learned this stretch of highway is recognized for having the highest volume of collisions and hit and run incidents in the area. Many of these accidents remain unresolved. A few cameras from the Department of Transportation provide live feeds to report traffic alerts for television and radio stations but offer limited assistance in capturing detailed images of collisions because they are not archived.
What started as a trip to the store for groceries for two Western Washington University seniors turned in to an evening of numerous telephone calls, paperwork, a mangled car, trip to the hospital and body aches for two young women as they were left in the darkness of the evening struggling to process the horror they had just experienced.
In the midst of all of this drama, as a parent you find yourself wondering about the thought process of others. When you know you have caused an accident and severely damaged a car how can you leave the scene and the mess you have just created? When you know others are in the car you just sent skidding down the road how can you not look back? In your panic you may flee, but how can you not return later? In the turmoil of it all I feel anger. I know lives may have been taken in the blink of an eye this evening, one created from my body and another that has become part of my family through a friendship established during the past four college-years. I know others have lost their life in similar scenarios, one victim being severely injured on this same stretch of road in January 2013.
As I recall this frightening evening I am reminded of those that raced to the car to see how they could help when we (parents) couldn’t because of distance. There is goodness in the hearts of many. In an instant when we experience the bad, the good can be visible through the downpour. It is this reminder that allows me to maintain hope.
My present hope is that reaching out to the public and asking for assistance will lead to the name of the driver behind the wheel on May 15, 2013. People talk, and I believe someone has.
Vehicle: Large (possible Ford SUV, four-door King Cab,) color unknown
Incident: Hit a brown Saturn on the intersection of Meridian Street and Telegram Road in Bellingham, Washington and fled the scene.
Time: 10:30pm. Traveling at a high speed.
Clues: The vehicle should have front end damage, and possible brown paint on it.
I can be reached through this blog if you have information you believe pertains to this accident.
