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Mistake |
| Written by brad cope | |
| Friday, 08 February 2008 | |
Mistake
If you drive south on Williams Parkway just outside of Love County in Alabama, you'll notice a small wooden cross off the side of the road between mile markers 21 and 22. It's white, about two feet in height, with three white silk lilies tacked to the middle of it. Embossed in gold letters down the middle is a solitary word: Faith. Holly Hopewell Anderson died young on a Thursday night about 11:30. She was killed instantly when she was ejected out of her car and hit a tree. It was the middle of summer 1982 and, if one could recall, a bit warmer than usual. In a stark contrast from a week before when the fair was in town, the fairgrounds were now quiet and dark. The real action now was happening right across the small paved road at the little league baseball field. The diamond was lit up as if it were the middle of the day. Dozens of middle-aged fans cheered on the young ones, just as excited for their batters on the plate as they were for their thrill seekers on the Ferris wheel. The smell of funnel cakes and cotton candy had been replaced with aromas of hotdogs and popcorn. Derek Stapleton was with Holly on that particular evening but if you asked him now, he would tell you that he would have taken her place in an instant. Derek loved her with all his soul. Holly thought the same about him, maybe more like the brother she never had. They were inseparable. Both had graduated Love County High School the previous May, and both had big dreams to move out of their small town to make it big. Holly, however, would not survive long enough to live out her aspirations. She never even got to see the ocean. Seagulls flocked to the cold Atlantic in November. Derek sat solemnly through the funeral, trying his best to shake the demons that haunted him, and the past that reminded his tortured soul of that horrifying night. He was getting sick to his stomach as the chilling events engulfed him, swirling through his tired, overwhelmed mind. He looked down at his hand, mindlessly picking at the glass that was still embedded in his palm. Derek was also thrown from the vehicle; fortunately for him, he landed in a clearing near the shoulder of that dark country road. Later that night, he was released from the hospital after being treated for minor abrasions. A policeman was there to ask a few questions. ‘All just procedure, really', the officer reassured Derek and urged him to share the events of the night that led up to such a disaster. Derek told the officer all he could remember, which wasn't much. Holly had seen something in the road, a deer maybe; she swerved to avoid it, and then ran off the road. The vehicle flipped several times, and that's when Derek's memory darkened. The officer hastily jotted the information down, nodded from time to time, and shortly thereafter let him go, reminding Derek to get some rest. Sometime during the eulogy, Derek turned to his right and saw Holly's parents, Ramona and Robert Anderson. The nausea he had before was slowly coming back to him as he observed them. Robert wailed intensely and Ramona remained motionless, in an almost trancelike state, staring at the coffin as if waiting for her to awake. When the preacher was finished, the funeral director gestured for the front row of men, the pallbearers, to stand up. Derek absentmindedly took the lead and sorrowfully hoisted the casket out of the parlor door and into the back of the hearse. The director then pointed the group of men to a black Lincoln, apparently a procession car, for members of the funeral party. He suggested the pallbearers all ride together to the cemetery. Derek, being closest to the driver's door, slid onto the cold leather seat behind the steering wheel. He eased onto the road behind the Hearse carrying his best friend. Feeling excluded by the other men in the car, Derek sat quietly and stared attentively ahead and just listened. The men, who were Holly's close family, made small talk; about golf, about hunting, and a little about Holly. Stricken with grief, Derek was in his own world, contemplating life and death. Why her?!? How could God be so cruel?!? "It should have been me," he mumbled to himself, but no one seemed to hear. He just sat silently and pondered more and more about that warm Thursday night. About how her parents would have been so angry if they knew that she had been drinking. He also thought about how puzzling it was that neither of them was wearing seatbelts when normally they always did. Why hadn't they taken that ride offered to them by a close friend, a friend who was sober? She loved that car, why did she risk taking it? Why was he so careless that night? Why did he betray her by telling that lie? He followed the procession onto the parkway. Derek knew he couldn't keep the secret forever. The road ahead of him became hazy as he felt tears well up in his eyes. She was gone. Holly Anderson was gone forever. All hope was gone forever. Why did she let him drive? Faith Maris was at the end mark of her hike when she emerged from the woods onto the edge of the road. With a sense of accomplishment, she came out just where she had predicted the shortcut could take her: directly between mile markers 21 and 22. That was, according to her calculations, approximately 200 yards from her car at the rest stop. She turned south and headed toward her destination. The forensic detectives on the scene say that she never knew what hit her. Derek came to his senses as soon as he felt the impact. His mind was working, but his body felt numb, just as it had felt that fateful Thursday. He jumped out of the car and helplessly ran down to the young woman's body, which had been thrown with considerable force to the bottom of a steep embankment. The other men pushed Derek aside and surrounded Faith with urgency. She was dead, they all knew it, but all thought that something more should be done. Her life could not end this way, it was too hauntingly familiar to all them. Derek was powerless against his emotions as tears streamed uncontrollably down his face. He stepped away from the panicked yells and screams and backed up the shoulder. As he reached the side of the road he collapsed, not really knowing if it was the bourbon or the predicament in general that caused his dizziness. Nevertheless; relief overcame him when the first patrolman stepped toward him. In 1982, the fair came and went in Love County.
So did Derek's innocence. Copyright 2008 brad cope |
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