Thursday was the sentencing from the car wreck that killed my mother- and sister-in-law almost two years ago. The driver pled guilty and spared us the hell of a trial. I'll love him forever for that because one day in court was enough to last me for the rest of my life.
This was my statement submitted to the judge which I was then not allowed to read in court. We were told to tell the judge something he didn't know and not to speak to anyone but the judge. This instruction was delivered to me just before it was my turn to speak.
Not my favorite situation. I'm glad it's over.
Impact Statement Jeri Keeley
To whom it may concern,
My name is Jeri Keeley. I'm Becky's friend, sister-in-law and full-time care giver. She lives in our home. My husband is her older brother Paul but Becky and I been friends for over 35 years.
Just before the car wreck Paul and I built an addition onto our home, with a basement apartment for an adult child with chronic health problems, and 2 accessible bedrooms and an accessible bathroom. We hoped one day that Becky would live with us if she desired to do so. Our daughter and my mother (who doesn't live with us) also use wheelchairs. We thought we might as well do it while we were building.
We truly thought we had 5-10 years before we'd have to face losing Nadine and maybe think about Becky moving in.
Nadine was a source of unconditional love, support and acceptance for me. She's been my "other mother" since I was 14 years old. It still takes my breath away to think that she's gone. I miss her every day.
It was also hard to try to come to terms with Claudia's death. She was a huge part of our lives. We're still enjoying gifts that she thoughtfully gave us, clothing she sewed for us. She lived down the street from us for about 10 years and our lives intertwined.
It was unbearable to think about losing Becky. That was a truly terrible night.
I spent almost every night in the hospital for the first month.
Becky's ruptured diaphragm, broken legs and other injuries were so severe that we didn't even realize for a few days that her back was broken in a couple of places! She was covered with bruises.
It makes me physically ill to remember the first time I helped an aid wash her hair. Even though a thoughtful nurse had painstakingly combed and cleaned it for hours that first night, I still found little pieces of glass in Becky's hair as we gently shampooed it.
Becky has an incredibly high pain tolerance, but because of her low blood pressure they just couldn't stay on top of her pain. She was at a 7-8 on the pain scale almost constantly.
The combination of a chaotic night, an arrogant doctor, a timid nurse and the fact that she threw up her feeding tube resulted in an entire night without pain relief for Becky very early on.
It was excruciating to watch.
Becky was continually throwing up. She's thrown up hundreds of times since the car wreck. This isn't an exaggeration. We didn't know it at the time, but her entire alimentary system was almost completely paralyzed by the wreck.
Her stomach incision wasn't healing well. There were large blood clots. So the gastroenterologist popped open her staples, dug out the clots and left the wound open, packing it. He did this with my help in her regular hospital room, right there on her bed. It wasn't nearly as fun as it sounds. Changing the packing was also no picnic. The area would later need a wound vac to fully heal.
A month after the accident I was forced to change my focus from Becky, who was stabilizing, to my pregnant daughter, who was dying. She lived, but lost her little girl in the second trimester. It was her 4th and final miscarriage and I was stretched thinner than I should have been. I wish I could have been with her more during that traumatic time.
My lovely daughter-in-law was pregnant at the same time and was also very ill. Her family lives out of state and I would have loved to help and support her. I wasn't able to.
When the insurance decided she was ready, Becky was transferred to a specialty hospital and then to a rehab facility. The level of care she received went down substantially with each transfer.
To honor her privacy, I'll skip some of the horrors and indignities that Becky endured. COVID was still raging. Turnover rates were high. It was nightmarish. The assistance she received ranged from hilariously inept to life-threateningly dangerous.
Becky spent most of one night yelling for help and vomiting. The tech on duty got tired of helping her and ignored her calls. She vomited about 1/3 cup of black bile every five minutes. All night. When the morning nurse clocked in and came to check on her, she had aspirated and was starting pneumonia. She was also grey and gravely ill. They ambulanced Becky back to the hospital.
This was very upsetting to Becky because she hadn't had a shower since Monday and she was hoping that since it was Friday she'd get one. She was dying, and she just wanted to get clean. She was pitifully grateful for the help they gave her in the shower once she was stabilized. And it was pure luxury for her to shower every day while she was in the regular hospital.
What was Cody doing that week, I wondered to myself?
Interestingly enough, the food Becky'd eaten the day before was still sitting in her stomach, undigested, going nowhere. The blood she'd been vomiting was from her throat. They'd neglected to renew her meds for acid reflux, and she was sneaking Tums to try to treat her severe heartburn. The rehab center doctor had just shrugged when she'd brought it up days earlier. It was hard to watch her go back to that nursing home.
Becky has lived with us since spring of 2022.
She's very private. To honor that privacy, I'm not going into the details of her system paralysis. I'm just delicately going to mention that nothing moves through her system naturally, and SHE HAS ALMOST NO SENSATION/AWARENESS.
She knows she has to use to the bathroom because her stomach hurts. But it could mean that she's already in the process, that it's time to go, or that she's going to have a painful stomach for the next day or so.
Before the wreck, she could transfer from her chair to the car (with help); or to another chair, the tub, the shower or her bed by herself. Now she needs help with all transfers.
Before, she could wash and dress herself except for socks and shoes. She took care of all of her personal/toilet needs except for clipping her toenails. Now she needs help getting into and out of the tub, and help with all clothing below the waist.
Sometimes she needs help getting clean. When this happens she's ashamed and apologizes all over herself. I think about Cody and how he might feel having his friend help him with personal stuff.
I'm exhausted.
I only have small windows of time when I can leave home because I need to be back to help Becky in the bathroom. If she hadn't been injured, she'd be able to go by herself at home, and she'd be able to use the handicapped stalls in public restrooms. This was something she could do before but can't do without a lot of planning and only in the most equipped ones now. She's used a public handicapped restroom EXACTLY TWICE since the car wreck.
It takes about an hour and a half to get ready to go out the door if Becky needs to go somewhere in the morning. I can't go to sleep until after she does at night. She has PT twice a week (1 ½-2 hours) and a bath 3 times a week (which takes around an hour and 15 minutes).
This leaves one day a week open completely for other appointments.
She's still fighting insurance. She's working hard to return to her previous abilities.
Becky got breast cancer and faced it without her mom.
Everything concerning the legal process is intensely emotional and stirs up all the waters.
My family has struggled.
One of my children still panics when I leave because she fears I won't come back. Nadine, Claudia and Becky had been returning to their home from our house at the time of the crash.
It's been a rough adjustment for everyone. Becky went from a very quiet life alone with Nadine, to living in our home with 9 other people. She still has nightmares about the accident.
Five of our kids battle mental illness. We're all still healing from the deaths and traumas.
As previously mentioned, one of my adult daughters has severe health challenges, lives at home, requires full-time care and we struggle to meet her needs. She's no longer the oldest or the most obviously dependent. Her health has been affected.
My 12th grade daughter was an assistant soccer coach at school to the middle school team, which won state last year. I missed the whole thing, and most of the Varsity soccer, basketball and track events she was in.
My 10th grade daughter is one of only two girls on her HS baseball team. Last month when she caught a pop fly and then ran to second and got a runner out in a triumphant double play, helping her team to ultimately win the game, I was at home helping Becky in the bathroom. I'd told her that I'd be there if I could, but it didn't work out and I missed her moment.
I've missed a lot of moments. It's been hard on my health and my relationships.
My then-6th grader developed several tics to go along with her OCD since the car crash.
My mom has almost completely lost her vision to macular degeneration and I just don't have time to serve her like I wish to do.
Becky is on a low fat, low fiber gastroparesis diet and also can't have spices, tomato-based, or citrus foods. Luckily she can have dairy. My husband is lactose intolerant. I have to plan meals to allow for both diets.
We have a large, supportive community of friends and family who help a lot. But Cody's decision to "drive stupid" turned my life upside down.
I love having Becky here. I'm so thankful she lived! She's worked hard to relearn the skills that were already difficult for her to master. She's an inspiration to me, a good friend and she blesses our home. But it's hard.
For a long time I didn't know what I wanted from or for Cody. It doesn't really even matter.
Nothing that happens here in a courtroom will change anything for me and my family.
I was hoping that Cody wouldn't get the message that the consequences of his choice can be swept away with his parents' money, good connections and a 'boys will be boys' mentality, because I think this could be an opportunity for growth. I want him to know that his decisions had a huge ripple and continue to cause suffering that he'll never understand.
However, I also don't want to ruin another life; I just can't see what would be gained from excessive punishment.
I have a son his age.
I've thought about his mother almost every day.
I've done stupid things that could have gone badly; I need grace, too.
Cody, It meant a lot to me personally when you pled guilty. I appreciate that you accepted ownership for what you did and that you actually stood and said the words yourself. Thank you for that.
I want you to know, Cody, that I fully believe that you can have a life of meaning and purpose regardless of where you are, what you've done or what circumstances you're in.
Just like one bad decision can ripple, good decisions can reach just as far and bring as much good.
Becky's actually a great example of this. We have no idea how many people read her weekly newsletter, or take courage when they see her working so hard at physical therapy. She's a gifted writer, remembers all the birthdays and anniversaries, and absolutely can't keep a secret to save her life. She's delightful to be around.
She started over and continues to do hard things and so can you.
Find reasons for gratitude. Find ways to serve. Recognize that good can come from difficulty. You're still here, so make your life count.
I hope that the court will address the fact that someday Becky might possibly need more care than we can provide in our home. Partially this is due to her cerebral palsy, but there's no denying that her situation has been changed and her need for assistance has been significantly increased and accelerated by the thoughtless actions of this young man.
I also hope that you will address the medical bills that Becky is still facing.
I hope that you can see that the quality of Becky's life was and continues to be drastically altered by this one event.
Thank you,
Jeri Keeley
