All too often in life we act impulsively without considering
the consequences of our actions. Most of the time we’re
lucky, but every once in a while there is a terrible price
to be paid for doing the wrong thing. I hope that after
you reads this story, you will think of Melanie before ever
getting behind the wheel of a car after drinking.
The following story was printed in the Quincy Patriot Ledger
on September 7th, 8th, 9th and 10th 2005.
Someone Else’s Family
Melanie’s Story: On A Summer Day In Marshfield, A Promising
Life is Cut Short at 13.
Editor’s Note: Two years after her death, a young Marshfield
girl has become the poster child for legislation that would
stiffen the penalties for drunken driving.
By Ron Bersani
Melanie Powell, a 13 year-old girl from Marshfield, was
killed by a repeat-offense drunk driver on a summer afternoon
while crossing Route 139 on her way to a birthday party.
She was just one of 156 people killed by drunken drivers
in Massachusetts in 2003. I always thought tragedies like
this happened to someone else’s family. Then it happened
to mine. Mel was my granddaughter.
Friday July 25th 2003 was a gorgeous summer day on the
South Shore. As the temperature soared to 86 the beaches
in Marshfield were packed.
At Jubilee Catering and Café on Court Street in Plymouth,
Tod and Nancy Powell and Tod’s sister Wendy were hard at
work juggling the daily needs of the café with the weekend
catering jobs. It was hot, really hot, and as usual the
air conditioner was not working very well.
Amid the frenzy of activity, the phone rang and Nancy picked
it up. It was her daughter Melanie calling from her best
friend Katie Conway’s home, where she had spent the night.
They had a big day ahead of them. First, a makeover, then
girl talk and the beach, followed by a 13th birthday party
for a new friend. Melanie also had some big news for her
mother.
Melanie was calling to report on last night’s cheerleading
practice. The practice had gone well! Not just well, it
was great.
At cheerleading practice the night before, Melanie learned
she had made “flyer.” That’s the girl who is tossed in the
air and caught after doing mid-air twists and turns. It’s
not for the faint of heart.
Melanie had wanted to be a flyer the first day she tried
out for cheering the year before, but her coach told her
she wasn’t ready.
Melanie worked at it taking dance lessons in Scituate
and practiced her routines over and over. She didn’t understand
football, but she loved being part of a team and performing
all the cheers every Sunday.
She worked so hard for this,” cheerleader coach Debra Mendez-Arey
said, “She was always asking for the chance to try the more
difficult stunts.”
Katie’s mother Pam Conway remembers going to the field that
Thursday night to pick up Katie and Melanie after practice.
She arrived while the girls were finishing their last cheer,
and she quickly picked out Katie, the tall girl on the bottom
of the pyramid. But she couldn’t find Melanie. Then she
saw her – at the top of the pyramid with a grin that seemed
to stretch for miles.
Nancy was so proud of Melanie that she couldn’t stop talking
about her.
“I actually started to feel guilty by the end of the day
because we had a young girl working for us who was starting
college in the fall and she was so excited that day. She
wanted to talk about college, and I realized I was just
lost in being happy for Melanie.
” Before she hung up, she told Melanie, “Stay with an adult
and put your sunscreen on.”
“I know, Mom, You already told me.”
It would be the last time Nancy ever heard her little
girl’s voice.
THE COMPASS ROSE
The Compass Rose Restaurant in Green Harbor was one of those
small-town watering holes that served mediocre food, tall
drinks and lots of fish stories from the local boaters.
At about the time Tod and Nancy were planning a family dinner
for Friday night to celebrate Melanie’s accomplishment;
a middle-aged woman was ordering her first chardonnay and
a scallop roll at the bar.
Pamela Murphy, 49, was a regular who lived about a mile
down the street in one of the busy beach neighborhoods.
There were 90 customers in the bar that afternoon, so keeping
track of everyone wasn’t easy for the lone bartender. But
she knew this woman, Keno, chardonnay and a scallop roll.
On Edwards Road, a side street off Careswell, Mel and her
friends were gathering at Renee King’s house for a day in
the sun. After shampoos, experimenting with hairstyles,
and picking out just the right outfit, the girls were off
to nearby Burke’s Beach. They would return later for Renee’s
birthday party.
It was an awesome day at the beach. There were friends,
boys and lots of families. They ran into a friend who said
he had lost his wallet with a lot of money on the way to
the beach. “My mother’s going to kill me,” he told them.
Melanie found the wallet on the street as they walked off
the beach. They were late, but Melanie insisted on going
back to return it.
GOOD DEEDS
Nancy didn’t find out about the wallet for weeks, but when
she did it made her smile.
“To think that the last thing Melanie did was for someone
else means so much to me,” she said. It wasn’t the first
time Melanie insisted on coming to someone’s aid. At least
this time it was a person. At12, she found a rooster in
a snow bank on a stormy day. She picked it up and headed
home.
“Mom, I know where that rooster lives,” she said. “We have
to save him.” She dried the bedraggled rooster with towels
and put it in a pet carrier. Melanie insisted that her dad
drive her – and the rooster – to its home. Into the car,
the brand new car, they went. When they reached their destination,
there was a problem.
“Mel,” Tod said, “there’s no way I can get up that driveway.
It’s not plowed and we’ll get stuck.”
So Melanie hopped out, rooster in hand, trudged up the
driveway through thigh-deep snow and rang the doorbell.
She wasn’t quite prepared for the response.
“Hi mister. I saved your rooster.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. That thing is still alive?”
Undaunted, Melanie realized that, even if the owner wasn’t
all that thrilled, the rooster sure was!
When she was 11, Melanie told my wife, Bobbi, her grandmother
that the job she most wanted when she grew up was to be
a Guardian Angel. Nana was a little stunned “We’d miss you
so much”.
“But Nana, I’d always be there for everyone. I’d be able
to protect everyone in our family and lots of other people,
too.”
Bobbi said if Melanie promised to wait a long time, she
would save her a spot on a cloud.
CARESWELL STREET
On the way back from the beach at 4 p.m., Melanie and her
friends stopped at the Green Harbor General Store on Careswell
Street (Route 139), for candy, sodas and Pixie Stix. Then
they continued walking to Renee’s for cake and ice cream.
The clerk remembered the girls because they were so excited
and so polite.
At the Compass Rose, Pamela Murphy finished her third
or fourth chardonnay and her scallops and played one last
Keno game. Then she walked out into the parking lot, climbed
in behind the wheel of her red Buick and turned the key.
At his home on Webster Street, Melanie’s grandfather Calvin
Chandler heard the sirens and a call about an accident over
his police scanner. A child had been hit by a car at the
intersection of Careswell Street and Temple Road, two and
one half miles away.
In Marshfield center, Melanie’s aunt Betsy Powell and
cousin Caroline Satterthwaite were leaving Ocean State Job
Lot and the sirens were deafening. “It seemed like they
were never going to stop,” Betsy said.
At the Humarock end of town, Bobbi and I were visiting
brother Mark Worden and dog-sitting Melanie’s pug Libby.
At 4 p.m., Libby got a little wild and wrapped her leash
around a kitchen chair sending it crashing to the floor.
It left a permanent green mark in the shape of an “M” on
the hardwood floor.
Melanie and her friends were a block from Edward Road when
they started across Careswell Street. The other girls saw
the Buick, but Melanie didn’t. They screamed, but it was
too late.
Melanie was hit with such force that two neighbors who
heard it thought two cars had collided. They heard the screams
and ran to help.
People were gathered around the girls, who were hysterical.
On the pavement was a pool of blood, a Pixie Stix and a
girl’s pocketbook. Someone was kneeling over a figure in
the middle of the street.
The car hit Melanie as she crossed the street. State Police
said it was traveling 45-50 mph. The impact threw her 100
feet.
She never had a chance.
The scene was chaos. Police and rescue workers were called
for on cell phones as some tried to comfort the girls and
others knelt by Melanie with a hopeless feeling.
Down the road and pulled over to the right was a red Buick.
Someone yelled to get help and call the police. Someone
else pointed to the Buick and said, “Make sure she doesn’t
leave.”
Two men went to the Buick. In the driver’s seat was a woman
who reeked of alcohol. When she started to leave, they said
that she’d better stay because the police were on the way
and would want to talk to her.
“You think?” she asked.
One of the men leaned over and grabbed the keys. It was
obvious that she was drunk.
Part Two:
Melanie: A family’s Worst Nightmare Begins
My 13-year-old granddaughter, Melanie Powell of Marshfield,
was killed by a repeat-offense drunk driver. Only those
who have been through a tragedy like this can imagine what
it was like.
On the afternoon of July 25, 2003, Nancy Powell answered
the phone at the Jubilee Café, the family business in downtown
Plymouth.
JUBILEE CAFE
The phone rang again at Jubilee Cafe.
“It was a stranger asking for Mrs. Powell and telling
me my daughter had been involved in a serious accident,”
Nancy said. “I said, ‘that’s impossible, my daughter is
at a birthday party. You have the wrong Mrs. Powell.’” Then
she just held the phone out and told her husband, “Tod,
you’re going to have to take this,” and she left the kitchen.
Tod took the phone. “His face just went white,” his sister,
Wendy Carley said. “ I really thought he was going to faint.”
Tod told the caller, “Calm down. Is there a paramedic
or police officer there that I can talk to?”
Wendy asked what was wrong.
“He just looked at me and said, ‘She’s not moving.’ I
think I just started to lose it and I shrieked. Tod was
really stern and he said, ‘You can’t do that and we can’t
tell Nancy.’ ”
Wendy drove her brother and sister-in-law to South Shore
Hospital in Weymouth. No one said a word.
“Tod and Nancy sat in the back seat clinging to each other.
Nancy was holding the birthday party invitation. There was
nothing we could say. I kept thinking, ‘she’s going to be
fine, she’s going to be fine.’”
Nancy will never forget that ride.
“It took forever just to get to Marshfield. All I could
think of was, what if she’s scared? Do I call my family?
But I can’t, we don’t have any information.”
She and Tod tried frantically to make calls, but they couldn’t
reach anyone. Then Nancy’s cell phone rang. It was her brother
Wayne Chandler of Middleboro. He and his wife Missy had
already heard the news. One of the girls had called Nancy’s
parents from the scene, and they were on their way to the
hospital.
“I could tell by her voice that the situation was not
good,” Wayne said. “She kept saying, ‘Just pray for her.’
“I had to hand the phone to Missy because the reality was
setting in and it was more than I could handle.”
SOUTH SHORE HOSPITAL
When they reached the hospital, a nurse met them in the
emergency department. “We passed the waiting area and were
brought through doors, down a long empty hall and put into
a small private waiting room,” Tod said. “Our fears and
anxiety increased drastically. The doctor came in to explain
to us that Melanie had been in a serious accident and she
had gone through the windshield when the car struck her.
She had stopped breathing and had no blood pressure. “
“The paramedics had done a great job reviving her, but
she needed a respirator to continue breathing. He also told
us her brain was not responding to any of the tests they
had performed.
“The doctor was very truthful and forward with us. He
told us that in his opinion Melanie’s chances of survival
were very slim and if she were to make it she would never
be the same again. He explained that she would suffer from
severe brain damage.
“He said they would transfer her by Med-Flight to New England
Medical Center where there were specialists who could offer
better treatment for her. They let us see Melanie before
they loaded her into the helicopter.”
Nancy begged to go with Melanie in the helicopter, but
it was out of the question. She wondered if she would ever
see her again.
Melanie’s flight was the first to have a priest on board.
The State Police pilot said when he glanced in the rearview
mirror to check on Melanie, “She was so beautiful and serene.
The priest was praying over her and he and the nurse were
so emotional, tender and caring. I knew Melanie was in good
hands. The paramedics from the scene were so concerned they
called every 10 minutes to see if she was okay.”
The gurney was high and Melanie was at chest level when
Tod and Nancy saw her.
“Her eyes were just like pools of water,” Wendy said.
“There was no life in them. There were no cuts on her face
and she was just as beautiful. We knew it was bad, but we
couldn’t see any injuries.”
In the emergency room, Melanie was strapped to the gurney
and blood was everywhere, in her hair, across her face and
body, all over the floor. There were smears where the nurses
had tried to clean it up.
Melanie’s eyes were half open and lifeless, and her tongue
was partially sticking out of her mouth next to tubes that
were feeding her oxygen.
“We will never be able to forget the smell of blood,” Tod
said.
“We saw the clothes that Melanie was wearing that day,
cut and covered with blood and placed in a bag to be thrown
away. Before we left the room a nurse handed us Melanie’s
jewelry in a small plastic bag covered in blood.
“We can’t erase the look on the faces of the emergency
room staff standing around as if they all knew there was
no chance.”
The hospital arranged for police escort to New England
Medical Center, less than 15 miles away, but it was rush
hour on the Southeast Expressway. It didn’t seem possible,
but that ride was even worse than the first.
Wendy was driving again.
“It was awful. People were horrible to us. They thought
we were just trying to ride on the coattails of the motorcycle
cop”
“We were flying down the highway in a lane the policeman
had created between the passing lane and the middle lane.
Cars were parting, but some people were trying to cut us
off and get between the motorcycle and us.”
The harrowing ride gave Tod and Nancy time to think about
the last time they saw Melanie.
THE PILGRIM BELLE: SUDDENLY
GROWN UP
It was two nights before on Plymouth Harbor, aboard the
party boat Pilgrim Belle. The whole family was there and
it was an incredible night.
Tod and Wendy’s older sister Betsy Powell, a professional
singer from Marshfield, provided the night’s entertainment
with her band, Shady Pete. Melanie’s cousins and closest
friends were there.
It was supposed to be for Jubilee employees, but Melanie
insisted that all the cousins deserved to be there because
they helped, too. And she simply had to have her girlfriends
there.
Melanie and her friends were the last ones to arrive.
As they walked along the dock toward the boat, fashionably
late and stylish, everyone stopped talking and looked. Tod
was struck by how grown-up the girls suddenly seemed. They
could be models, he thought.
“Here we were having this great night together with all
our family and children,” Wendy said. “Tod and I were partners
and it was so exciting that Nancy and Tod could be a part
of my life. We had the greatest thing going. And now, we’re
struggling to get that back and I’m not sure it can ever
be the same as it was that night.”
“It was so great to think that the kids were becoming
a part of it and that would continue to grow. My relationship
with Melanie was growing. We went shopping together for
birthday and Christmas presents. Sometimes Caroline came,
too. Melanie definitely had her own style, and we really
had fun. I loved being her aunt.”
After the party, Melanie was off to her closest girlfriend
Katie Conway’s house for a sleepover and then a 13th birthday
party for another friend on Friday. On the Pilgrim Belle,
the girls were all dressed up trying to look so mature,
dancing and singing the night away but still little girls
at heart.
Part Three:
Family Holds Vigil in Melanie’s Final Hours
Loved Ones Are With Her
In 2003, 156 people died in drunken driving accidents in
Massachusetts. One of them was 13-year-old Melanie Powell
of Marshfield, my granddaughter. For our family, the last
24 hours of her life were painful beyond words.
While doctors fought to save their daughter after a car
hit her on July 25, 2003, Tod and Nancy Powell endured an
anguished trip to New England Medical Center in Boston.
At the Marshfield police station, the 49-year-old woman
who hit Melanie was being booked on a charge of drunken
driving.
With one conviction on her record, Pamela Murphy knew
better than to take a Breathalyzer test. But there was no
escaping the camera. State law requires bookings to be taped.
Murphy had trouble answering basic questions, such as
whether she was married or had children. She was unable
to dial a phone and could not remember her own number. She
stumbled and slurred her words and seemed completely oblivious
to what she had done. She never asked about the condition
of the girl she had just hit.
Melanie was hanging onto life by a thread.
At the hospital, she was taken to the pediatric intensive
care unit on the sixth floor. Tod, Nancy and his sister
Wendy Carley arrived to an ominous reception.
“We were once again greeted at the front door, this time
by a priest and a doctor. Our first thought was we were
too late. We were escorted to a similar small empty waiting
room.
“The doctor said that Melanie was still on life support
and we could move up to the intensive care unit shortly.
The doctor left and the priest stayed with us as we prayed.”
The priest accidentally asked what Melanie’s name was,
mistakenly using the past tense. Nancy corrected him firmly.
Her daughter was still alive.
“IT’S REALLY BAD” NO SIGNS OF
LIFE
They were taken upstairs to intensive care. They could see
Melanie while the doctors and nurses worked on her.
“All you could smell was that strong odor of blood and
medical supplies,” Nancy said. “Melanie was still not moving
or showing any signs of life except for her chest moving
up and down from the life support machines.”
“You cannot imagine the horror of seeing our little girl,
who was so full of life, now laying in a bed with tubes
coming and going in every direction, alarms from elaborate
machines continuing to sound off as they were losing her.”
“ She had no control over her own bodily functions as
we sat and held her. We were able to stay with her as the
nurses and doctors were fighting to keep her blood pressure
and body temperature up throughout the night.”
Wendy started to try to reach someone in the family. Home
phones, cell phones – no one was answering. Finally she
reached her husband, Chris. For the first time, she broke
down.
It’s really bad. They said she’s not going to make it.”
Chris just kept saying, “I don’t understand, I don’t understand.”
Finally, the initial shock wore off and he made some phone
calls.
Relatives began arriving to be with Melanie and to give
her parents and aunt support. Aunts and uncles, brothers
and sisters, cousins and grandparents.
Tod’s sister Betsy, a licensed practical nurse had witnessed
miraculous recoveries from terrible accidents during her
14 years at Braintree Rehabilitation Hospital. Her first
reaction was, “OK, she can make it.”
Another sister, Kelly Powell and her husband Bob Farrell,
raced from their Newton home to the hospital. They were
rushed along corridors, deep into the complex where the
family was waiting. Tod told them that Melanie had a serious
head injury and only a miracle could save her.
They were shown into Melanie’s room, where Nancy and her
mother sat with Melanie.
“Talk to her,” Nancy said. “She might be able to hear you,
tell her a happy memory. It could help bring her back.”
Bob leaned over and took Melanie’s hand. He talked softly
about the time she had visited their summer place on a lake
in New Hampshire. They spent the entire afternoon on the
water, canoeing, swimming, and diving. She wanted the good
times to go on forever.
On the sign-in wall at the New Hampshire cabin, Melanie
wrote, “To Kelly and Bob. I love you. I will miss you. -July
26, 1999.”
That was four years earlier to the day.
HOSPITAL VIGIL
Melanie’s friends came to the hospital. The hospital staff
did a great job calming the children down and keeping them
occupied. The Chaplain gave them coloring books. They were
thinking of where Melanie was at that moment and not about
the accident scene.
Still, it was heartbreaking to see the little girls who
were with Melanie at the time of the accident hopefully
drawing pictures for her. They had all been through a nightmare,
but it didn’t seem to have registered Katie Conway and her
sister, Ashley, sat in shock. Katie, Ashley and Melanie
were like the Three Musketeers. They planned their lives
together – where they would go to college, what kind of
car they would drive and what kind of boy they would date
and someday marry.
At sleepovers at the Conway’s when Melanie was younger,
she would usually make it until midnight before homesickness
would set in. The call would go out to Tod and Nancy and
they would pick Mel up and take her home.
For cousins Joe and Caroline Satterthwaite and Desmond
O’Neill, the night was agonizing. They sat with the other
children part of the time and with the family the rest.
Desmond remembers being at his Dad’s house in the swimming
pool when his stepmother came to get him and told him he
had to go because a car had hit Melanie.
None of them could comprehend that death was a possibility.
Desmond thought, “She’ll make it through and maybe just
be different.” Caroline thought, “Maybe she’ll be in a wheelchair.”
She wondered what it would be like if Melanie were disabled.
Every time the doors opened, Joe Satterthwaite expected
a doctor to walk in and tell them everything would be OK,
but it was always a janitor.
The family was gathered in a waiting room outside the intensive
care unit. In small groups, relatives went into Melanie’s
room to touch her, gently kiss her head and tell her, “I
love you.”
The nurses, who knew the prognosis, never let on that
it was hopeless. Every time one of them touched her, she
would say, “OK, honey, I’m just going to move your pillow”
or “This is just a little fluid.”
The doctors were honest from the beginning, but respectful
of Nancy’s need to come to terms with the inevitable loss.
From the beginning, Tod understood what the doctors were
saying. But for Nancy, death was out of the question. She
kept asking the doctors, “What it she lives?”
Tod had the added worry that he would lose his wife as well
as his daughter.
The chief of the pediatric trauma unit explained to the
family the difficulties everyone would face over the next
24 – 36 hours. Melanie was not responding and there was
no sign of brain activity.
Part Four
A gut-wrenching Goodbye and a Call for Tougher Laws
Melanie’s Family Calls for Tougher Laws
My 13-year-old granddaughter Melanie Powell was killed in
a drunken driving accident on July 15, 2003. Now our family
is fighting for tougher laws to save other families from
the heartache we have endured.
Through the night, the nurses and doctors in the New England
Medical Center’s pediatric intensive care unit struggled
to keep Melanie’s vital signs strong.
They pumped in fluids to keep her hydrated and to keep
her body temperature up. Blankets covered her body and the
machines whirred rhythmically.
Some family members slept on couches. Others rushed home
to catch a couple of hours of sleep; change clothes and
rush back with fresh clothes for Tod and Nancy.
Nancy’s mother and Betsy sat with Melanie while Tod and
Nancy tried to sleep. She half expected Mel to sit up and
say, “You two need a shower.”
At about 2 a.m., Melanie’s blood pressure began to drop.
At the same moment, her mother Nancy Powell, who was napping,
awoke wit a start. She was sweaty and sick. She had to go
see Melanie.
As she went down the corridor, all she could hear were
buzzers – they were losing Melanie. Betsy ran to wake Tod.
He felt a burning from his head to his toes.
“They were still in their separate worlds,” Betsy said.
“Tod knew, but Nancy just wasn’t there yet. They stabilized
Melanie and she made it through the night.”
By that time, the hospital staff decided the time had
come to approach the family about the possibility of organ
donation.
They asked Tod’s mother, Bobbi Bersani, to broach the subject
with Tod. It was the hardest decision she would ever have
to make.
“At 3:00 a.m., the doctor gathered the family for an update
on Melanie’s condition,” she said. “Afterwards he spoke
with me privately in the hall. He said Melanie was the perfect
candidate for organ donation.
“At 3:30, Nancy came out from Melanie’s room and it was
clear she wasn’t giving up. If she couldn’t give up hope,
how could I?
“I went to the doctor and told him I just couldn’t be the
person Nancy remembered for the rest of her life who told
her she had to accept death and let Melanie’s organs be
harvested. Selfishly, I just couldn’t do it for myself,
and I love Nancy too much to do that. He understood.
“I would have loved for Melanie’s life to continue on
in another person. But by the time Nancy was able to accept
her death and came to us, it was too late. Nothing is the
way it’s supposed to be. Melanie was not supposed to die.”
By Saturday morning it was evident that the window of
opportunity for organ donation had closed. Overnight the
fluids that had been pumped into Melanie had accumulated
and her appearance was vastly different.
“When the new shift came on at 7:00, the night doctor came
in for one last check-in,” Betsy said. “There was nothing
to say, and he just held Tod. It was an amazing moment.
“I kept thinking, ‘ I’m a nurse. I know how to deal with
this.’ But this time I couldn’t.”
Tod’s father, Neil Powell, had worried about the decision
to take Melanie off life support, fearing that it might
tear Tod and Nancy apart. When he spoke with the doctors
at the hospital, he learned that the decision was not the
family’s to make. There would be one more test to establish
brain death, and if Melanie did not respond, the life support
would be terminated.
The final test was done at 2 p.m. Saturday. Tod and Nancy
were there when the doctors poured ice water into Melanie’s
eardrum. If there had been any brain activity, her head
would reflexively jerk away. No response.
Watching the test was so hard, but at least Nancy knew
Melanie was not feeling any pain. “I didn’t want to leave
her, but I knew it was time to face the next step. I knew
that I would never have to worry about her again. Now she’s
safe. She’s with God.”
Nancy emerged from the room and said, “Melanie has died
now, and we all need to go into her room and say goodbye.”
Twenty family members and six doctors, nurses and technicians
crowded into a tiny room filled with equipment. The doctor
had explained that they would gradually decrease the repetitions
of the ventilator until it stopped.
Everyone gathered around the bed and each person had a
moment to hold Melanie, touch her hand, stroke her head
and give her that last kiss. Everyone was crying, including
the doctors and nurses.
As Melanie’s 11-year-old cousin Caroline Satterthwaite
– the girls were so close they were often called CaraMel
- reached down to touch Melanie’s foot, she suddenly said,
“Boy, she’d be so mad if she knew her feet were showing.
She would hate that her nail polish is fading.”
For a moment the mood was broken, and Melanie’s feet were
quickly covered.
As the ventilator slowed, Melanie’s body took on a blue
tinge. Nancy sobbed and said, “Oh no, honey” and she climbed
into the bed to hold her baby one last time.
And then it was over.
QUIET RIDE HOME
Little was said on the ride back to Marshfield. Tod and
Nancy had slept little over the last 36 hours, and the physical
and emotional strain was showing. What little conversation
there was turned at one point to the driver who had killed
Melanie. Nancy had been at Melanie’s bedside when Tod told
Wendy Carley, his sister, “It was a drunk driver.” He couldn’t
bring himself to tell Nancy at the hospital.
In Nancy’s mind, it had to have been a terrible accident.
Maybe a mother distracted by her child, an older person
who couldn’t see well enough, failing brakes. Not drunken
driving.
Her thoughts had been so focused on a miracle that she
was unaware of the cause of her grief. It was another dagger
in her heart.
On Sunday morning Tod and Nancy began to make funeral
arrangements. The funeral director explained that, because
Melanie was a homicide victim, her body would first be turned
over to the medical examiner for an autopsy and the funeral
home would not receive it until at least Tuesday.
In another difficult moment, they picked out a casket.
Then, at Nancy’s insistence, they went to the scene of the
accident. She had to see it.
When they arrived at the scene, two people with clipboards
were taking notes and talking to kids on bikes. They thought
they might be police investigators looking for witnesses,
but Tod’s mother recognized the tall, thin man with the
half-glasses and close-cropped beard, and she immediately
steered Tod and Nancy back to the car.
It was Jack Atwood, the lawyer for Pamela Murphy, the driver
who struck and killed Melanie Powell.
The arraignment on Monday morning in Plymouth District
Court was a preview of Atwood’s case. The accident was Melanie’s
fault. The girls were playing in the road. There were hints
of drugs and alcohol. The defendant had only one glass of
wine and part of a second. The police report was unprofessional
and incomplete.
“The hardest part was watching the defense attorney in
front of the TV cameras blaming Melanie for her own death,”
Nancy said.
MOURNING MEL
The wake for Melanie on July 30 and the funeral the next
day were agony for her family and friends. Nancy wore a
new outfit she had picked out with Melanie.
“I was so happy and so was Melanie because when Melanie
was little we never had enough money to spend a lot on clothes
and here we were picking out this matching outfit,” she
said.
Tod and Nancy greeted every one of the hundreds of mourners
with a smile, shedding no tears and comforting those who
did.
In a touching scene, a Marshfield fire truck stopped in
front of the funeral home and the fire and rescue team filed
in together in uniform. They had tried so hard to save Melanie
and they were devastated to lose her. Tod and Nancy comforted
all of them, some of whom they had grown up with and gone
to school with.
At the end of the night, when just the family was left
for a few private moments, cousin Caroline finally broke
down. She sobbed uncontrollably as she touched Melanie and
asked, “Why is she so cold?”
As her mother and grandmother comforted her, everyone
realized that there were so many questions that could never
be answered.
How could this happen? Why? How can we go on? It’s been
two years now and the heartaches haven’t stopped. They never
will.
As time has passed, everyone who knew Melanie has a favorite
memory. My wife, Bobbi Bersani, her grandmother, remembers
the strong-willed little girl who dutifully dressed in the
clothes her mom laid out for her each morning before they
left to spend the day with us. Then she promptly – and surreptitiously
– went to her dresser and packed her backpack with the clothes
she would actually wear that day. At Nana’s house it was
a quick change.
Melanie was the instigator in every little plot to drive
Nana crazy. Nothing in Nana’s house was out of bounds. Every
toy, and there were lots of toys, could be dragged out at
a moment’s notice. Knick-knacks could be rearranged.
“Putting things back was not on her agenda,” Bobbi said.
For me, her Papa, it was the time Melanie shut down the
Talking Information Center, the closed-circuit reading service
for the blind that I run in Marshfield. Tod and Nancy were
the Sunday night cleaning crew.
One night, when Melanie was about three, Tod realized
the service was off the air. Melanie was coloring in the
room with the reel-to-reel machines.
“Melanie, what did you do?” he asked.
“I didn’t like that,” she said pointing to the equipment,
“I turned it off.”
Neil Powell and his wife, Joanna, remembered the shy little
girl who didn’t take easily to these strange grandparents
from New York. A trip to the Bronx Zoo finally brought her
out of her shell, and she happily rode on Neil’s shoulders.
One of their fondest memories was the way she stole the
heart of their skittish and distrustful cat Ricki, a relationship
caught forever in one cherishes photo.
Mel’s best friend, Katie Conway, has suffered terribly
since that awful Friday.
“Sometimes I go into Katie’s room and she’s sitting there
crying, staring at the computer,” her mother said. “When
we go to visit Melanie’s grave, she sits cross-legged, stares
at the picture of Mel on the headstone and just says over
and over, ‘She’s so beautiful.’ All the pictures of Mel
are still on our refrigerator and I don’t think they’ll
ever come off.”
For everyone in our family, the accident was an emotional
watershed.
“Life for us is defined by before July 25 and after July
25,” said Melanie’s aunt Missy Chandler of Middleboro.
Pamela Murphy isn’t likely to forget that date either. She
was convicted of vehicular homicide while driving drunk
and sentenced to 2 ½ years in prison. Today she is an inmate
at a prerelease center in Framingham, her home until March
2007.
A FITTING LEGACY
Tod and Nancy are my amazing stepson and daughter-in-law.
I’m proud to be Melanie’s grandfather.
On May 27, 2005 Governor Mitt Romney filed “Melanie’s Bill:
An Act to Protect the Citizens of the Commonwealth from
Drunk Drivers.”
It’s an omnibus bill, and if passed would implement the
most sweeping changes in Massachusetts’ approach to drunk
driving in history. Our family is lobbying to help make
this bill a law. The odds are against us.
Massachusetts has one of the most dismal records in the
nation regarding drunken driving laws. We were the last
state in the nation to pass the per se law making a person
legally drunk if their blood alcohol level is .08 or higher.
We still have not passed a federally mandated law calling
for installation of ignition-locking Breathalyzers on the
vehicles of repeat offenders. Forty-five other states have
passed this law. We repeatedly lose federal highway funds
for such indiscretions. MADD gives the state an “F” rating
for laws.
Why? Many people feel the reason is because the state
has a legislature dominated by defense attorneys. There
are 200 members in the Massachusetts Legislature 55 of who
are defense attorneys. They make up a powerful inside lobby
that has consistently blocked legislation to stiffen the
drunk driving laws. Some would say they do it out of a need
to protect the constitutional rights of the accused.
Others would support the theory that it is more out of
a desire to protect the fiduciary rights of defense attorneys
to make money–lots of money–defending the people Assistant
District Attorney Frank Middleton of Plymouth County calls
“professional drunks.”
I’ve often wondered if they ever worry that one of the
repeat offenders they help put back on the roads will some
day kill one of their loved ones. Probably not. After all,
this always happens to someone else’s family.
An End to One Story – And The
Beginning of Another
This story was published in four installments in the Quincy
Patriot Ledger and Brockton Enterprise beginning on September
7, 2005. It was published at a time when intense public
and media attention was focused on Melanie’s Bill.
Between May 27th when the Bill was filed and Tuesday September
13th, when a public hearing on the bill was held at the
Gardner Auditorium at the State House, Tod Nancy and I haunted
the halls of the State House on countless days. We met with
over 60 legislators either individually or in small groups.
We came armed with facts, figures and statistics to back
up the need to pass Melanie’s Bill. The meetings were often
very difficult emotionally. We actually had several legislators
break down and cry when they heard our story. A groundswell
of bi-partisan support rose up in favor of the legislation.
When the hearing date arrived, victims and families of
victims traveled from all over Massachusetts to testify
on behalf of the bill. The national President of Mothers
Against Drunk Driving flew in from Florida. The National
Transportation Safety Board sent representatives from Washington
D.C. to offer expert opinion on the need to pass the legislation.
Plymouth County District Attorney Timothy Cruz spoke in
favor. Not one person voiced opposition to the bill.
After the hearing, the bill was referred to the Joint
Committee on the Judiciary. The legislators decided to report
separate versions of the bill from both chambers.
On Monday September 26th, the House version was released
at 4:45 p.m. The House Chair of the Committee had succeeded
in completely gutting the most important provisions of the
Bill. I called a press conference for the next day at 2
p.m. outside the Governor’s office to denounce the House
version and to demand Melanie’s name be removed.
Two days later, the Senate released its’ version after
having restored all of the Governor’s original components
and going even further in strengthening the provisions of
the bill.
A conference committee was formed with three members of
each branch taking par in order to reconcile the differences.
Despite requests from my family and many members of the
media for open hearings, no formal meeting was ever held.
The House took up the measure for an up or down vote in
a decidedly hurried fashion. The Chair of the Judiciary
Committee and several members of the House leadership team
were leaving for a European vacation at 3 p.m. and planes
needed to be caught. The bill passed in the House, but the
public fury over yet another attempt to water down the bill
was at an all-time high.
The final draft was released from both chambers and sent
to Governor Romney. The Governor had ten days to sign the
bill into law, veto it or send it back with amendments.
He chose the latter course with out blessings and support.
Under unrelenting pressure, the House Chair cut short
his European vacation and came home to face the wrath of
the electorate. The key provisions of the bill were restored
as two of the three amendments offered by the Governor were
passed.
On October 28, 2005 Governor Mitt Romney signed the bill
and proclaimed, “Melanie’s Bill is now Melanie’s Law!”
At the signing, I delivered the following address:
Today is a day to give thanks to all those who have worked
so hard to make this day possible. We are particularly thankful
to Governor Romney and Lt.Governor Healey for filing this
legislation in May and for the outspoken support they have
voiced over the past five months.
We are grateful to Senate President Travaglini and Speaker
DiMasi for their leadership, and we are thankful to the
members of the legislature who have worked to form the bi-partisan
coalition that has led to the support necessary to pass
this historic legislation. And to those members of the legislature
who have disagreed with our position on this bill, we are
grateful for your willingness to listen, to consider another
point of view and to work in the best interests of our citizens.
We are joined by other victims and their families who
have lost so much, but have never given up hope that this
day would arrive. We are all truly grateful to Barbara Harrington
and the victim advocates of Mothers Against Drunk Driving
for the understanding, and compassion they have extended
to our families and for their strong advocacy for this bill.
The legislative process is not an easy one. There is no
linear path in the road that begins with the filing of a
bill and ends with its’ enactment into law. There are many
ups and downs, twists and turns. At times it can be frustrating
and infuriating. But we are proud that our democracy works.
It works when commitment, integrity, reasoned judgment and
wisdom are practiced by all.
There are two people of whom I am particularly proud.
After suffering the greatest loss imaginable, they have
somehow found, from deep within themselves, the strength,
dignity, courage and purpose to turn that loss into an enduring
legacy to their daughter and one that will benefit others.
I can tell you from personal experience that it’s not easy
wearing your heart on your sleeve and re-living the worst
nightmare of your life over and over again. But Tod and
Nancy have never once turned down the opportunity to try
to make a difference and spare other parents the anguish
they have endured.
Over the past five months, a great deal of attention has
been focused on “Melanie’s Bill”. But not enough attention
has been focused on Melanie. I wish you could have known
her. To most people, she’s the little girl with the beautiful
smile in the purple and white cheerleader’s uniform with
“MYC” for Marshfield Youth Cheerleading on her sweater.
To those of us who knew and loved her, she’s so much more.
Melanie was a Girl Scout, soccer player and dancer. She
loved her close-knit family and she had a huge circle of
friends. She wrote poetry and she kept a journal.
I’d like to read a brief entry from her journal.
July 13, 2002 (One year before
Melanie was killed, she was 12)
Dear Journal,
Today is the day I found out what beautiful is. Well, I
guess everyone finds out some day but today is the day I
found out.
Today my mom said no to me putting a computer in my room.
I got mad and went outside on the hill beside my house.
I sat on it thinking about what she said and what my dad
said. I tried to take my mind off it but I just couldn't.
My way of doing it is to breath in fresh air, smell the
beautiful flowers, and think of happy things only I could
get excited for. Well it could be my imagination but once
a cool but warm breeze came I was happy and everything that
happened flew right out of my head to a place no one would
ever want to go. When it went away it seemed my parents
had forgotten the whole thing too, and it was so amazing
and peaceful. I will never forget this day, the day I found
the meaning of beautiful.
It was about this time that Melanie told my wife that her
dream job when she grew up was to be a guardian angle because
she would always be there to protect our family and others
from harm.
Today there is a “cool but warm breeze” blowing in Massachusetts,
and we know where it comes from. For today a little girl
starts her dream job. We’ll never know how many lives Melanie’s
Law will save, but we have faith that it will be many. So
today we say:
THANK YOU MELANIE.
In the first week after the law went into effect, 460 people
were arrested for OUI in Massachusetts and 150 cars were
impounded. We believe lives were saved.
Is the law perfect? Is any law perfect? Is there more
to be done? There is absolutely more to be done. But we
are very proud of Melanie’s Law.
Our prayer is that we have given hope to those who had
lost it. We hope that the passage of Melanie's Law will:
