Daily Egyptian
Fall '03 Edition
The price
Moustafa Ayad
Daily Egyptian
The toll of death is heavy for both families and communities. But such a toll can be even more harsh and resounding when the deaths involve alcohol and vehicles. A fatal car crash in February involving an SIUC student and her husband continues to reverberate in their respective communities, striking a chord with whoever has heard the tale. The actions of one night play such an important role in the lives of numerous people. Family and friends who are left contemplating the answers search for a sense of normalcy through the cluster of pain.
A late-night phone call, and a family sits at a table with the chairs that were once full but are now empty.
The stockings hung above the trees, void of life and the fullness of presents. The sounds of children are replaced by the priest's last words as two sets of parents lower the caskets of a son and a daughter.
The laughter that once filled the homes during the holidays is silenced in an instant, an instance replaced by a mother's memories of a happy child content in the spirit of the holidays.
This was Michelle Miller's favorite time of the year.
The eggnog, the smell of burning wood, crisp, white, pale snow as it lay on the ground and everyone's favorite part ˜ the presents. She had always loved the holiday season, not for the shopping but for the brotherly love that allowed people to see past differences and come together, a bond that was as genuine as her smile. Emma Harrison, Michelle's mother, can still remember how Michelle's face lit up during the holiday season.
"This was her favorite season," Emma said as she broke into tears. "She loved everything about the holidays, the materialistic part and the true meaning of Christmas."
It was Michelle's first year as a law student at SIUC; a career in law is what she had always envisioned. Her husband, Gregory, was a correctional officer at a Pittsfield prison and a former high school wrestler. The couple had ventured from Pittsfield to Carbondale regularly; they commuted each week to be with each other, often to work and coach the high school team Gregory had been a part of.
Late Friday evening on Feb. 7, 2003, the two loaded up their Chevrolet Cavalier. Gregory was helping support the two by working at the correctional facility, while Michelle devoted her life to academics. As they merged onto Highway 11 and the car turned, a truck slammed into the car.
The driver of the truck was John Anstine, a would-be first-time driving under the influence case. The car careened off the bank near the exit, killing Gregory instantly with the force of the impact. The 1975 Chevrolet truck overpowered the smaller compact car, crumbling its shell like a fist crushing a soda can. The brush guard ripped through the metal, exposing the inside of the smaller Cavalier.
Michelle was airlifted to St. John's Hospital in Springfield, where they would monitor her for brain activity. She lingered for three days in a coma, succumbing to her injuries.
Anstine, a 25-year-old with no prior arrests or convictions, had been returning with friends from a local tavern. He would be released later that morning on a $3,000 bond. Both Gregory and Anstine, who were driving the cars involved in the crash, had been drinking. Autopsies later showed that Gregory had a blood alcohol level higher than Anstine.
Inside each car were unopened bottles of liquor. Both drivers were wearing their seatbelts, but Michelle was not.
Anstine would later plead guilty to two counts of driving under the influence, serve a one-year probation and pay the fines and costs of the process totaling $942.08. Anstine refused to answer any questions regarding the case or his driving, saying the case has taken a toll on him and his family. His lawyer, Andrew Schnack, also refused to comment on the case.
According to Pike County State's Attorney Frank McCarthy, this was a common first-time DUI case, with the defendant entering a guilty plea. And as with all the DUI arrests in Pike County, first-time offenders receive one-year mandatory supervision and pay local and state fines. Anstine received "non-reporting supervision."
While in the hospital, Michelle's friends at school corresponded with each other, e-mailing one another about her progress and keeping good spirits. Emma and Larry Harrison hoped for a recovery as they drove from LaBelle, Mo., to Springfield, where their daughter was spending what would be her final days. Those three days were the hardest for the parents, as they hurried to the hospital to see Michelle, who lay motionless in a coma. Tim Brown, a friend of Gregory's for more than 30 years, and his wife, Kim, learned of the crash the following day.
The couple rushed to the hospital in Springfield hoping to spark Michelle's recovery. Kim had been friends with Michelle in St. Louis where the two had earned their undergraduate degrees, and Michelle even introduced Kim to Tim.
"It is still hard to grasp," Kim said. "She had e-mailed me that day about her coming to town. We were going to have a girls' night out on Saturday. But that didn't happen because of the crash.
"I have her picture on the fridge. It's almost like she is still in Carbondale because I didn't see her a lot. She was gone all the time, but now she really is gone. And it's still hard to grasp."
The two heard the helicopter that night as it flew over the small town. The blades sliced through the wind, leaving an ominous sound that still resounds in the Browns' heads. Kim didn't think her friend would ever have been a passenger on that airlift.
"Greg and Michelle had been drinking as well," she said. "We should all learn a lesson from the both of them. It's just so hard.
"What would have happened if the choices they had made were different?"
For Tim, the choice cut close to the bone. His wife and he now stood in the hospital room of St. John's Hospital, watching the person responsible for their union slip away. With Larry and Emma nearby, they had to console not only themselves but keep the Harrisons from losing their grip as well.
"I'm still not over it," Tim said. "It's not like him. It's a travesty. It has affected a lot of people."
It was Gregory's dream to see a self-supported wrestling club in Pittsfield, one that would encourage the children who participated. And with his death, the Saukee Youth wrestling program took both a blow and a gain. Patrick Stendback, the coach of the wrestling team in Pittsfield, had known Gregory to be a man who had always supported the community and wrestling with the heart of a lion. The crash occurred when the team, the same Gregory had mentored and nurtured as youths, was on the brink of regionals in Carlton. Children who had grown up with Gregory as a coach came to school that Saturday morning for a road trip and a setback.
"It was an awful, awful day," Stendback said. "We were all walking around like zombies. I was in tears. Randy Butler, my assistant coach, who been a friend of Greg's for years, was in tears. And there you are trying to convey to your team to do well.
"You can't just stop. We had to go ahead and go."
Week after week, Gregory traveled between towns, coming to visit his wife with never an incident. And now less than a mile away from their home, the two collided with fatal repercussions.
"They didn't even get back," Tim said. "They were less than nine-tenths of a mile away. And you know you always hear that's when crashes happen, but you never believe it. They were less than a mile from home. It was a terrible thing.
"It wasn't something they did. It was abnormal, because on his days off he would visit Michelle. And she was going to come back and visit. She needed a break, and what a break it was."
The shock of the Miller's deaths has affected those who knew them in different ways. Those who knew them best cannot ever contest that the two had been model individuals; instead they now walk understanding that life screeches to a halt at any moment.
"Greg affected everybody," Tim said. "It's just so unlike him. He was a second-degree black belt in tae kwan do, and he had wrestling. He was all about doing the right thing. And Michelle was the same.
"Life is just crazy how it just jumps up and bites you. I don't even know how to look at it. It's opening up some scar tissue right now."
It is the parents of both people who have taken it the hardest. Both fathers have cowered in the face of their children's deaths. Tim said the death has left Gregory's father, Paul, who had been proud of his son, all of Gregory's life, with an indelible mark on his psyche. And the same pain resonates at the Harrison home with Larry after nearly 10 months of grief-stricken pain. Burying a daughter silences hopes and deters dreams.
"Larry has taken it hard," Emma said. "It's been hard for both of us, especially now with the time of year and Michelle being gone."
The two lives lost that night in Pittsfield were more than just the average fatality to the sets of parents, more than missing presents and more than just empty chairs at the Thanksgiving dinner table.
"It's an open wound. It never heals," Larry Harrison said.
Moustafa Ayad can be reached at: mayad@dailyegyptian.com
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