DUI Victim's Voice

My name is Susana. My mother met my father, Santiago (Jimmy) Fierro when she was 12 years old. At age 18 she married him. He was a good man. The youngest of 9 children. When he was a child his arm was broken and never set correctly. This made him handicapped. His birthday was December 24.

On New Year's Eve,  I was four years old, and my brother was two, we all went to my great-grandmother's house to celebrate. Around 2 a.m. my father (just 24 years old) went out of the house and began walking across the street. He never made it to the other side. A man driving drunk came speeding down the rode and hit him.

My mother rushed out and found my father, the man that she loved, lying on the ground. The ambulance came and rushed him to the hospital. My mother was with him in the ambulance. He died before it arrived. His aorta had been severed by the impact and he died of internal bleeding.

Like most of my memories of my father, I vaguely remember the night he died. I remember being in a bed in a dark room and seeing bright lights outside of a window.  For some reason I know that was the night that he died.

The man who killed my father never went to jail. Didn't even pay a fine. I saw him once when I was an adult. He attended my great-grandmother's funeral. (His family and my family had been close before the "accident.")

I remember when my mom said, "That is the man that killed your father."  He was standing off to the side, alone. A part of me wanted to go up and slap him. I longed to cause him pain. He has caused me great pain. Because of his actions I have no father, only vague memories. My children have no grandfather. My mother has no husband.

My family tells me I look like him. I guess I must because when I was 17 and working as a hostess in a restaurant a man I had never seen before came in with his family. I asked him how many would be in his party. He didn't answer me. Instead he asked me who my father was. I said, "You wouldn't know my father."  He said,"Your father was Jimmy wasn't he? You're Jimmy's daughter."  I was shocked and said, "Yes, but how do you know?" With a smile he replied, "Even though I haven't seen you since you were little, before he died, I knew right away because you look just like him!"

I have pictures of my dad, but I would like to know for myself what he looked like, in person. What he sounded like. What it felt like to be hugged by him. I don't remember these things. To hear him say I love you and to see him play with my children.

                                                                                                                    Photo of me in my thirties

For these reasons I longed to cause his killer pain. But the other part of me, the part that believes in Jesus, and forgiveness knew that only Jesus can judge that man. Only God knows his heart. Maybe he has suffered too, with the knowledge that he took someone's life. I gave that pain to God and I walked away, tears streaming down my cheeks.

When I was a teenager I drank alcohol often. (I believe the sorrow over losing my father deeply and subconsciously affected me and this propelled me to drinking.) In my late teens I even drove drunk once. It scared me that I didn't remember driving home and I never did it again.

When I turned 20 I was baptized and became a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It is ironic that by the time I turned 21 and became legally able to drink, I was no longer interested in drinking alcohol.

When I was 12, my little brother died of complications of the flu. He and my father are buried side by side. Although I  miss them both, receiving the Gospel of Jesus Christ helped me better accept the loss of my loved ones. I know that we can be together in the eternities. 

Our Children                                                                          My Mother

 Our Family

Photo and video editing at www.OneTrueMedia.com

These are photos taken after the birth of our 7th child.   My mother and my two sisters are in the photos as well as my sisters baby, and our friend's baby.   (My husband is not in the photos.)