I walked into Livingston Parish court room 2 months after the crash and I sat on the bench not knowing what to expect but I still held my head high. A lady called for all victims and witnesses to meet her outside of the courtroom. I reluctantly got up and went outside with my mom in tow. She was standing there with her purse, pen, notebook and a \u201cknowing smile\u201d. I initially thought she was a reporter and wanted to get as far away from her as possible. I had had my share of reporters to last me a good while. We checked in with the victims advocate and as I was walking off, she called my name. I turned around and she said, \u201cHi Michelle, my name is Valerie Cox and I\u2019m with MADD, that\u2019s Mothers Against Drunk Driving. Can I hug you?\u201d MADD has been a part of my life and support system ever since.<\/p>\n
People often believe we are the writers of our own stories. I became a mom at the age of 19. I had to figure out how I was going to raise this little girl, take care of her and me and finish college. To say I was scared out of my mind was an understatement. Everything became about my daughter and making life the best I could for she and I. Fast forward, life happened. I married Taurean Shropshire. He took on not only Kaylee, but my newborn son, Khaiden Michael, who was only 3 weeks old. Unto this union came Samuel Kingston.<\/p>\n
April 10, 2016, is the day the world stopped and when it started moving again, nothing was the same. Not one \u2013 but two \u2013 drunk drivers changed my family\u2019s life forever. My children \u2014 15-year-old Kaylee, 6-year-old Khaiden, 4-year-old Samuel, and I \u2013 attended a housewarming party for Khaiden\u2019s Godbrother and his family. At the party, he and Khaiden were discussing his upcoming birthday and what all he wanted to do. He and Khaiden both shared a love for video games and Khaiden wanted a gaming birthday party. He promised him he would be there.<\/p>\n
Samuel, aka Sam, become connected at the waist to a \u201ccousin.\u201d They played together all day. Sam loved motorcycles and one of our good friend\u2019s husband rode his bike to the party. He took one look at Sam and when I tell you he fell in love with the little red boy who loved motorbikes, he was in love with this baby. Sam even managed to hustle he and \u201cthe cousin\u201d some popsicles from the ice cream truck. Before he left, he promised Sam, he would make sure to come and pick him up to take him riding on the bike the next weekend. At the time, we never knew, Sam would never get that motorbike ride.<\/p>\n
It was time to leave, the kids had school and their dad was flying in that night. He was planning to stop by to see them before heading home. As we drove home along a dark highway, Khaiden and Sam chattered away in the back seat, excited to be up past their bedtime. They had just got off the phone with their dad. Kaylee was on the phone with her dad.<\/p>\n
I was unaware that, up ahead, a trash compactor fell from the back of a pickup. The driver had previous DUI convictions. On this night, he was driving drunk yet again. He didn\u2019t bother to stop to retrieve his trash compactor, which we then crashed into. I pulled to the side of the road, threw on my flashers, and got out to survey the damage. I was low key mad because I had just purchased this car and it wasn\u2019t even a full month old. I sent the boys dad a text letting him know what was going on, called police, and then my parents, asking them to pick up the kids while I waited for help. I wanted the kids to be safe. People who lived in the neighborhood came out because they heard the crash and to see what happened. They started setting up orange safety triangles to divert traffic.<\/p>\n
I remember telling the boys to stand in the grass. Sam was telling on Khaiden because he was making spit bubbles. Spit bubbles would have ended up as them passing licks and fighting. I was going to fuss, but something told me \u201cdon\u2019t fuss this time\u201d. I just told Khaiden not to make spit bubbles and to hold his brother\u2019s hand. I remember asking my daughter to help with her brothers, instructing the boys to hold hands in the grass, away from the road.<\/p>\n
I was using the flashlight on my phone to look for the roadside assistance number on my insurance card. I remember getting frustrated because I couldn\u2019t find it. After that, I remember waking up on the ground, smelling exhaust and someone telling me not to move. I heard my daughters\u2019 cries, but I heard nothing from my sons. I kept telling the people out there \u201cmy babies, my babies\u201d. They were saying we have her. I kept saying no, \u201cmy boys too. I didn\u2019t hear them\u201d. I kept listening. I heard someone scream my oldest son\u2019s name and the way she screamed it; I knew they were gone. Yet, I still begged God not to take them, to send them back to me.<\/p>\n
I later learned, the drunk driver, plowed through the safety triangles and struck a waiting car that struck me before running off the road and slamming into my children and one of the good Samaritans helping us. The driver was running from a crash he was in further up the road. In the ambulance, the EMT, an old high school friend, tried to keep me from hearing that my boys had died on the scene. Kaylee learned the terrible truth while watching the news from her hospital bed. The crash left her with back injuries and nerve damage to her left foot. I had cuts, bruises, a stretched MCL and a hip injury that left me on a walker and in physical therapy. The son of the neighbors who helped us, survived being crashed into but not without being in the ICU with several life altering surgeries. While I hate that he had to go through that, I would have given anything if that\u2019s what would have saved my sons. Their little bodies were crushed so badly, we couldn\u2019t even donate their organs so that someone else could live. Had the mortician not done the impeccable job he did, we would have had to have a closed casket service. He had to use molding clay to reconstruct their faces. Sam looked like a porcelain doll and Khaiden looked like he was asleep. To not be able to kiss my sons one last time, even at the private family viewing, was painful. At the funeral, I could only cry out and beg God to please take care of them. I must have fainted because after my cry, I woke up on a sofa in the church. I can only hope God heard me. Am I the same, no, none of us would ever be the same.<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\n
For two years, I faced the men who changed not only the lives of me and my family, but the lives of their families forever. I looked each man in the eyes as I tearfully spoke about Khaiden and Samuel. I wanted each of them to understand that Khaiden and Samuel were not just two random little boys, but they were our son! The sons of an Army Sergeant, the grandsons of a Vietnam Veteran and Marine Veteran, the nephews of a Navy Captain, the great nephews of the 1st African American District Attorney in Clinton.<\/p>\n
Khaiden, my child who excelled academically. Khaiden who mastered Spanish in just 3 months and the game of chess. He placed 2nd in the entire State of Louisiana in his 1st chess tournament at just the age of 6. My computer genius. He loved playing basketball and soccer. Video games were his thing. The week before the crash, my daughter had just taught Khaiden to ride his bike without training wheels.<\/p>\n
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