I Want Your Spirits To Climb!

I am taking this blog post to address something very person that happened in my life last year and is finally coming to an end very soon. (At least, I hope it is.) Yes, this blog is about my work in the entertainment industry, but this is something that I feel needs to be shared. 

1/11/13: My husband was hit by a drunk driver.

To the drunk that hit my husband on 1/11/13:

I know who you are. I know your name. I know where you live. I know that it was more important to you on that Friday night in January to drink and have a good time than to be concerned about anyone you might encounter on the road while you were intoxicated. I know that you just don't care.

I don't want this to be some sort of lecture about the dangers of drinking and driving. I hope you learned your lesson when you hit my husband head-on, driving northbound in the southbound lane. You could have killed him. You could have killed yourself-- not that your death would have mattered anything to me. You don't have a family. You don't have a wife. You live with your parents, who paid a high-powered attorney to make this charge "go away." 

My husband walked away with a wrist injury.

I am so disappointed in the New York State Judicial System that you received an ACOD. You got a little
slap on the wrist for driving drunk. If you don't get any other charges in the next 18 months, it is expunged from your record. Excuse my language, but BULLSHIT.

We were fortunate because my husband walked away from the accident with merely a wrist injury. Perhaps if you killed him, something would have happened to you. Instead, you're being released back into society with your drivers license, irresponsible and ready to get behind the wheel of the car, drunk again. Maybe you will kill someone else next time.

I keep thinking about poor Katie Flynn, Stanley Rabinowitz and their families. Why doesn't New York State have stronger laws for DWI offenders? In Ecuador, people that are pulled over as a DWI are shot on the spot. Perhaps that is a little too extreme, but I'm sure that there isn't a problem with DWI in Ecuador the way that there is in the USA.

The drunk walked away with nothing.

You almost tore apart my family. You almost made me a widow and my children fatherless. Our car was totaled out, and we had to buy a new one-- Which caused us a great expense. You were driving daddy's SUV, and you barely had the amount of damage to your car as we did to ours. 

What are the effects of this crash on you? You weren't injured. Your car was not totaled out. You got a slap on your wrist. Your record can be expunged if you behave yourself over the next year. My husband was injured. We lost a car and had to purchase another one. We have been dragged through insurance claim after insurance claim to have medical bills and whatnot paid for. 

The accident shut down the street.

We are the victims here, and we are still being punished for YOUR actions.

But it doesn't matter to you. You still go out to the bar in Smithtown, drinking with your friends, and get behind the wheel to go home, regardless of how much you drank.

I've never wanted to punch someone in the face so badly. If I ever saw you, I genuinely would confront you. I would probably take a swing at you. I would hit your wrist with a baseball bat as hard as I could so that you can feel exactly what my husband is going through. I still have visions of how I walked past you in the back seat of the cruiser as I went to get my camera, and you smiled and nodded at me as if to say, "What's up, pretty lady?" Fortunately, my friend Sally was there to drag me back to the scene of the accident, rather than dragging you from the car and beating the shit out of you.

You almost killed my husband.

You almost killed my husband.

You almost killed my husband.

Perhaps that statement doesn't mean much because the word "almost" was in it. Perhaps next time, it will be:

You killed my husband.

You killed my wife.

You killed my mom.

You killed my father.

You killed my child.

You killed my best friend.

Maybe the accident changed you. I hope it did. I hope that you never, ever, ever put another family through what you put mine through. 

And even if everything did change you, Michael, I have two words I would like to leave you with:

Fuck you.

Sincerely,

  Candice Cain