Remembering Three Teenagers Killed by a Train | One Year Later
Feb 20th, 2011 - One Year from the Crane Creek Accident in Melbourne, Florida
I asked officer Mike if he had been here at this place a year ago.
"I worked the scene," he tells me, diverting his eyes down the track. "Last year this date fell on a Saturday. It was much busier then. Tonight it falls on Sunday."
We were silent.
I looked north where the railroad tracks make a quick turn, a turn that likely prevented the teens from seeing the train approaching. Then I looked south, out across the bridge where Wraya Hadley, 14, Ciara Lemn, 14, and Jennifer Reichert, 15, lost their lives.
I said aloud, "I've wondered how dark it was when it happened."
"6:28 pm," Officer Mike responds. "I looked it up this morning." Then he added. "They were wearing flip flops. My men can barely walk across that trestle without stumbling... and they tried it in flip flops."
We were both quiet again. I thanked him for talking with me, and for his service to our community.
"It's never easy when an incident involves children," he added.
So true.
A Candlelight Remembrance Ceremony
I walked downhill near the boardwalk area, scanning the faces of the crowd that had begun to build for the announced candlelight remembrance ceremony. None were smiling, many were fighting back tears. To the west, the Florida sun had dropped lower, silhouetting the railroad trestle against the sky.
I found a park bench near the main crowd and took a seat. Before long, a woman approached me with a handful of white candles. I accepted one, noting the similarity to the Christmas candles of a church service, a ring of cardboard clung around the center to catch wax. In a way, as I looked around at this community of hurting souls, I felt like I was at a church service. The kind of place and community where people lived and hurt together.
As 7 pm approached, some struggled to light their candles in the brisk breeze. That made the crowd huddle closer, their bodies collectively blocking the wind. Somehow many managed to keep the small flames lit, illuminating many tear streaked faces. I looked at my unlit candle, unsure of what to do next.
It was then that I felt my park bench move. I had a visitor. I looked over at a young man fighting emotions. I would later learn that he was friends with an older sister of one of the victims. He was wringing his hands, about as uncomfortable as I felt inside. We exchanged astonishment at the horror of what had occurred and stared out across the water beneath the bridge.
More people arrived, bringing balloons, flowers, hugs. The crowd grew larger and I sensed again my park bench friend's anxiety. I looked over as he began to speak.
"I... I don't know what to do. Do I go over there with them? I don't have a candle..."
I didn't even hesitate. "I have one," I said, offering him my unlit candle. "You can have it," I told him.
"Really?"
"Yeah. Really."
When he seemed hesitant to move, I included, "And I'll go stand with you too if you want."
"I think I'll stand by the rail," he said getting up.
Together we moved closer to the main group.
As I neared the group, a Florida Today newspaper cameraman began setting up his camera for an interview. A bright light came on, and two young people introduced themselves as Jonathan and Kari. In the camera light, it occurred to me that I recognized Jonathan from a chaperoned school trip a few years back. While Kari was talking he gave me a quick nod.
With the interview finished, the camera lights went out, and the crowd grew quieter. I would later learn that it was at this point that Deacon Frank Falotico was speaking to the mothers of the three girls.
I was looking around at the faces lit by candlelight, the clouds against a twilight sky, and in the solitude of the moment, a train horn sounded, breaking the calm. As if to confirm that I wasn't imagining the moment, it sounded again, echoing off the surrounding buildings.
"No! No!" Kari cried out in front of me. "That can't be a train! Not now. NOT NOW!" Jonathan smothered her in a tight embrace as she sobbed on his shoulder. The train horn sounded again, much nearer, and I felt my throat tighten up. All around me faces reflected a horror and sadness. Some looked up to the sky; others sank to their knees and wept. I brought my camera out of my pocket and looked up at the trestle, intent on a picture of the approaching train. I was shocked. Only seconds had passed since hearing the horn and yet this train was already beginning to cross the trestle. It was coming on so terribly fast.
In that moment, I put myself in those scared girls' place last year... with only seconds to decide. Do I jump in the water? Do I run? Do I... and then I would have been hit. That fast. That sudden. No time to react.
The train was already across the trestle, box cars sliding past, wheels click-clacking through the grieving crowd. (Note: Pictures #3 and #4 that I took, were taken only 2 seconds apart... and 3 seconds after that, the train was in the middle of the bridge.)
I put my camera away and turned out toward the water, gripping the boardwalk railing, lost in my thoughts, counting the wheel clicks and wondering why they were beginning to sound further and further apart.
I exchanged glances with my park bench friend. "What's going on?" I whispered aloud looking up again at the trestle. The train was slowing, more and more. Slowing - intentionally -- until its motion became a crawl. If I'd been walking next to it I would have been able to keep up -- it was going that slow.
Minutes passed and people cried, then the final car slowly rolled into view with a single red light at the back. And then the train accelerated again, racing south, moving briskly away. In my mind, the train had just sent a message to the grieving group of family and friends below. That message?
It hurt too. It grieved. The railroad grieved. The people aboard that train grieved.
And then more thoughts flooded me. Trains can't just stop at a moment's notice. On that February night in 2010, there was no time to stop, no time to save Jennifer, Ciara and Wraya. They'd made a tragic decision to cross that trestle, and were left with no time to undo that choice.
Something changed in me then. Something that is hard to put into words. It wasn't that I suddenly had all the answers. No. I still don't know why God allowed this tragedy to happen. He could have stopped it. Yes, He has that power. He could have intervened.
As I've walked through this life and faced tragedies, pain and heartache of my own, and that of others, I seem to come up with more questions than answers. And at this moment, as the click-clack of wheels diminish into the distance, I don't understand why this horrific accident happened. I don't understand why these three girls are gone.
But I do know some things... I know God loves these three. And I know He loves these hurting people all around me. He loves me too.
So what will I do?
I'll do what I have been doing. I will grieve with the friends, grieve with the families. Grieve with the young people who called these three friends. Love and help where I can. And miss them along with everyone else.
It is said, in a book of old, that God is near to the broken hearted.
Be near, O God. Be near.
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Additional Information From the 2011 Candlelight Service
http://www.floridatoday.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=2011102210307
http://www.floridatoday.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=2011102190317
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Information From the 2010 accident:
http://www.clickorlando.com/news/22629896/detail.html
http://www.clickorlando.com/news/22622692/detail.html
http://www.palmbeachpost.com/news/state/3-melbourne-girls-killed-by-train-had-only-270081.html
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Another True Story...
The Reckless Teenager Nearly Killed by a Train - an incident that I witnessed in Rockledge, Florida
Published by Ron Masters
I may be a Systems Administrator by day, but finding abandoned places, writing fun articles, mentoring or praying for teens, jamming on guitars, sculpting sand, public speaking or working on pencil portraits... View profile
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11 Comments
Post a CommentHow very tragic:)
How sad. I have a cousin who witnessed her best friend get killed by a train after answering a dare from someone else to try skipping the track. It took my cousin a long time to get over it. Thanks for your comment on my "Oral Sex in the Classroom" article. I understand, it leaves us speechless. But if you think that's something, stop by my latest on Abercrombie & Fitch if you get a minute! I understand if you don't...I myself have very little time lately to stop by other peoples' files, unfortunately.
Heartbreaking my friend...but what a fine tribute from you sir. Very commendable.
I'm thankful that I don't live close to the tracks it would be worry some with some children and or teens.
So sad
The pain here is abundant, a year later and forever. Thanks for putting these three individuals back in our thoughts.
Sad reality - loving tribute.
Thank you for writing this Dan, that night was very emotional and in every way brought back that night in my mind. Thank you for being there and for being such a great friend...we will love them forever.
R.I.P I love you.
Beautiful tribute Dan!
What a sad and riveting account. I do believe the train was sending their condolences as a tribute to the young lives that were lost in the tragedy. It is hard to hear of someone's life being so soon snuffed out. We don't always understand the way God operates but He still remains God. And even in the darkest hours of our grief, He loves and He cares.