By Donna Buttarazzi     

May 11. 2016 3:26PM

A role no parent wants to play

My son had a compound fracture on one leg and a head injury, and his girlfriend was dripping blood from her head and hands. As they climbed into their seats in the wrecked vehicle and the police officers covered the cars with tarps, I stood out of sight and nervously wondered if I could pull off what I had been asked to do that morning.

Thornton Academy Theater Director David Hanright asked me to play the role of the “bereaved parent” in the mock fatal crash staged on campus last month. Saco Police, Fire and EMS staged the event to show juniors and seniors what the very real consequences are of drunk driving. I’m a writer not an actor, this was going to be tough.

The already wrecked cars were brought to the field the evening before and set up to look like a head on crash. The three students involved in the crash were made up with fake injuries, as was the gentleman recruited to be the victim in the oncoming car. The police radios were hooked up to a PA system so the students could hear all of the crash related communication.

The students were briefed in the gym before being brought out to the stands. The victim actors were in place and the tarps were pulled over the vehicles. When officer Gagnon gave the signal, the tarps were pulled away, the 911 call came in, and every detail of every parent’s worst nightmare played out in “mock reality” over the next 45 minutes. I still wasn’t sure I could pull it off. It’s not real, how will I make myself cry?

Then the sirens started. One came from behind me on the field, as a first responder arrived on scene. Other sirens came from downtown Saco, just as they would if it were real. A chill went up my spine. That car is white, like Katie’s car, I thought. “We have multiple PI, with a possible code,” an officer said over the radio. I’m a newspaper reporter, we have the scanner on everyday in the newsroom. I know what “possible code” means. The tears popped into my eyes as I stood off scene.

I could hear Jake, my real-life son, moaning from the backseat of the car. They pulled Katie, his real-life girlfriend, from the wreckage, checked her vitals, and covered her with a body bag,  leaving her sneakers sticking out. She laid there unmoving as the horrible scene played out. Her character in this “mock crash” died on impact. She would later be loaded into a real hearse, as I sobbed uncontrollably, but more on that later.

I played the mother of the teen killed in the accident. But my youngest son, Jake, a Thornton Academy senior, played the part of the injured teen. He was screaming in pain as the EMT’s removed him from the vehicle and worked to save his life. He played the part so well, I had all I could do to keep myself from running to his side, my motherly nerves were on a raw edge.

Anthony, the actor playing the part of the impaired driver, was questioned, given a field sobriety test, arrested and loaded into the back of the police cruiser. He had killed one friend and gravely injured another, along with a complete stranger.

Two friends who had been with the three in the crash, came upon the scene and saw the devastation. They were questioned. Everyone wanted to know where they had been ,and where they got the alcohol. The police officers held them back from seeing their dead and injured friends. They screamed in anger at Anthony in the back of the cruiser.

Then it was my turn. My daughter was late home, she wasn’t answering my texts, and I heard sirens. What mother hasn’t had that happen at some point, and had their minds go to that very dark place - what if? I hopped in the car to go find her.

Cued by one of the officers, I ran onto the scene, screaming “No! No! Where is she? She was in this car! Where is she?” running from one side of the car to the other, with officer Carrier catching up with me and gently pushing me back. Oh, it was very real, and the tears and the anguish came easily. What mother hasn’t imagined it? Being there was like a nightmare coming to life. It was very intense. The students in the audience were silent.

The Life Flight helicopter was called to transport Jake to the hospital. Two officers approached me, and told me my daughter did not survive the crash. I sobbed and sobbed. 10 percent of me was playing the part, and the other 90 percent was living the reality of learning that I had just lost my beloved child. The life would have drained out of me too at that moment, were it real. That I am sure of.

The officers actually ask you things like what funeral home you would prefer to have your child’s body taken to, and if there are other people they should notify. And I heard myself saying things like “she has two brothers, she loves them so much” and “she can’t be going to a funeral home, she’s going to Prom next weekend, and she’s going to college in the fall.” And this wasn’t a script, it was real. What mother wouldn’t say those things and think those things?

We’re all buying dresses, scheduling hair appointments, planning graduation parties and sending in college deposit checks. We’re making plans for our kids. Plans for their bright, scary futures full of so much promise. We’ve been making these plans since they took their first breath in this wonderful, heartbreakingly dangerous world.

We’ve raised them well. It has not been easy. We’ve sacrificed and we’ve nagged, prodded, cheered, and consoled as they’ve navigated their way through high school. We’ve been unbelievably proud. We’ve been frustrated. And we’ve worried. Oh how we’ve worried.

We’ve pleaded with them to make good decisions. Put down the phone when you drive, wear your seatbelt, be smart, make good choices. No drugs, no alcohol. We’ve waited up every single night for four years. Every night. They’ve never ever arrived home without a parent awake, alert and ready to talk if necessary. And yet, this parent that I played - she could be any one of us. One stupid mistake. That’s all it takes. Keep the conversation going with your kids. Don’t stop, even if they’ve heard it all before. No drugs, no alcohol, no drinking and driving, ever.

Make sure your “good kid” who has assured you they would never drink and drive is smart enough to never get in the car with a friend who has been drinking. Ever. Give them an out. Talk strategies, and set up a backup plan - or three. Be that emergency ride forever, and find a few others who will do it too, any hour of the night.

I’ll do it. Have them call me. After watching my son rushed to a Life Flight helicopter, and his girlfriend loaded into a hearse, her beautiful blonde hair hanging off the stretcher, and another friend carted off to jail his life changed forever, I’ll do it for any kid at any time.

This mock crash was supremely well done by all involved - it was a nightmare brought vividly to life, and it happens in reality every day. Let’s not lose another precious, beautiful child to one stupid mistake.