And he was. Bruce, seventeen, and his sixteen-year-old girlfriend, Diane Tucker, were good kids. They didn't drink, nor drive fast or reckless.

They had been having a high school graduation party, given for Bruce and his twin sister, Brenda. There had been no alcohol served nor brought to the gathering all evening. The party was winding down and Bruce was anxious to try out his new car, a gift from his parents for graduating valedictorian of his class. A car he would need in the fall. He was planning on beginning his studies in pre-med. at Brigham Young University in Provo.

The young couple headed west on Main Street. Lighthearted, in love, and looking forward to a great future together. Diane planned on joining Bruce at B Y U the following year, after her high school graduation.

On the other side of town, another graduation party, for Herbert Colby, was also winding down. It was an unchapperoned pizza and beer party. The young people were all ecstatic about being out of school and finally free. They discussed partying every night until they had to start looking for jobs. It had been a long time since they didn’t have to worry about being in training for football and their other high school sports. They wanted nothing more to do with school and talked about all the money they would make working. They weren't about to, “waste their time going to college.”

Eighteen-year-old, Herbert left his house about midnight, in his souped-up roadster, to take his seventeen-year-old girl friend, Stacy, to a "lovers' lane" before taking her home. They headed east on Main Street.

Herbert was driving fast with his arm around Stacy. They were giggling about his antics during the evening as he drank more and more beer.

"Oops!" Herbert chortled, as he slammed on the brakes. The traffic signal had turned red just at the moment they reached the intersection.

"Let me drive, Herb," giggled Stacy. "I think you're drunk"

"Naw! I'm just feeling good," tooted Herbert. "I'm a good driver. I know what I'm doing."

"Turn on your headlights you damn fool," someone shouted from the sidewalk as the signal turned green.

Herbert stomped on the gas and the roadster leaped forward, picking up speed, going faster and faster, changing lanes, as they passed everyone on the road.

Bruce Gregory and Diane were continuing west on Main. They turned into the left-turn lane at State Street, stopping to wait for the light to change.

The green arrow blinked on, and Bruce, completely unaware of the speeding roadster, pulled into the intersection.

The force of the impact crushed Bruce's passenger door and flipped the sports car onto its roof. Upside down, it skidded more then 150 feet before it came to rest on the opposite side of the street and abruptly burst into flames.

The roadster slammed sideways into a concrete light standard and came to rest pinning it's passengers into twisted steel.

Silence ensued, except for the crackling of the flames of the sports car.

All of a sudden people were running from all directions, stunned and not knowing how to help. There were shouts to call the fire department, the police and an ambulance. One man was trying to open a door of the burning car, as screams erupted from inside. Later he sobbed, "I c-couldn't do ... a-anything, I felt so ... so helpless, so useless."

The police, the paramedics and the fire department were there within minutes, but there was little they could do for the Gregory car, or it's occupants. The screams had ceased ... they were beyond pain and suffering.

Paramedic Sabrina Rapp worked on Stacy Hall, while her partner, Brian Clark took care of Herbert Colby.

“Wow! Sabrina, this guy smells like a brewery! His blood alcohol has got to be very high.”

“I think this girl’s been drinking. And she looks to be under age, too”

Later those statements proved to be true. When tested, Herbert’s level proved to be twice the normal. Stacy’s was borderline.

Stacy had been sitting on the passenger's side of the Colby vehicle - the point of impact with the light standard.

Sabrina did everything she knew from her years of experience as a paramedic. There wasn't much to work with. Everything on the right side of Stacy's body was smashed. She was put onto an immobilization stretcher and flown to the trauma center at City Hospital by the LifeFlight Helicopter.

Herbert Colby fared better. He was drunk, therefore relaxed. He was also strong, a former football player. They took him to the hospital by ambulance, out cold. Although his injuries were serious, he would live. Live to face the agony of what he had caused by DRINKING AND DRIVING.

"It's always the Innocent who are killed, and the one responsible ... well, they just walk away," Officer Lawrence told his partner as they drove to the Gregory home.

The world fell apart for the Gregory family when Bruce's father answered the knock on the door that night.

“I’m Officer Bill Lawrence. Are you Mr. Gregory?”

“Yes, I’m Steve Gregory. What’s the m-matter, Officer,” Steve replied with a shaky voice as Wendy quickly grabbed her husband’s arm.

“S-Something’s wrong, isn’t it? I know ... I can feel it. Is it Bruce? Is our son okay?” Wendy shouted.

“Mr. and Mrs. Gregory, we need to speak with you. May we come in?”

“Please officers! Tell us ... Bruce and Diane they are all right, aren’t they!” Steve implored, as he stepped back from the doorway so the officers could enter.

There was no easy way to tell them the bad news. “Mr. and Mrs. Gregory.” Officer Katy Vernon spoke in a patient and formal voice. “There has been a ... an accident. I’m sorry ...

“NO!” Wendy shouted. “How bad are they hurt? Where are they, at the hospital? Please! Tell us they’re okay, ...?”

Officer Lawrence broke in, “I-I,m sorry, it’s our duty to inform you ... “

“STOP! I DON’T WANT TO LISTEN TO THIS!” Steve screamed, terrified, as he grabbed Wendy to hold.

“... that your son, Bruce, and the young lady with him were killed tonight in an automobile accident.”

Just at that moment, Brenda, Bruce’s twin sister came into the room, sleepily, wearing her robe.

“W-what’s going on? Why are ... you ... shouting?” Brenda asked, looking from her parents to the officers and back again. “What’s the matter? Mom ... Dad ... tell me! Why are you crying?

The two officers tried to console the grieving family as best they could. There just wasn't anything they could say.

“H-Have you talked with the Tuckers yet?” Steve Gregory questioned.

Officer Vernon said, “Not yet. We’re going to contact them as soon as we leave here.”

“I-If it’s allowed, we’ll go tell them.”

The two officers looked at each other, with concern. Officer Vernon shrugged her shoulders and nodded her head at Officer Lawrence.

After giving them the address and phone number of the morgue, the officers left the devastated family. Officer Vernon asked her partner, "Bill, will people EVER stop and think before letting someone drive a car when they’ve been drinking?"

"I don't know how to tell them, Steve," sobbed Wendy, as they drove up to the Tucker's home. “Maybe we should have let the officers do it.”

“No, sweetheart, we need to do it. Diane was on a date with our son. They, in effect, had put their daughter’s safety in his hands. We, as his parents, should tell them. I know it will be hard to do, but we must have the strength.

The Tuckers looked out the window when they heard a car drive up. They’d been worrying because of the late hour; Bruce had never kept Diane out this late. Recognizing the Gregory car and sighing with relief, thinking Diane was safe, they came out on the porch. Nora stopped, grabbed Bill’s arm and stood as if frozen. She could feel that something was wrong. She seemed to sense the Gregory’s grief as they slowly stepped out of the car.

Both couples were in a daze, as they drove to the county morgue. Steve Gregory and Bill Tucker were asked to identify their children. The police lieutenant thought it best not to have the two mothers look at the burned and battered bodies of their children.

The next few days were arduous. It seemed as though time was standing still. There were arrangements to make and people to call, but nothing seemed real ... more like they were watching a movie about someone else.

There was a steady stream of people, both young and older, through the homes of the Tuckers and the Gregorys. People came to express sympathy, leaving home-cooked food, letting both families know how much they cared. The two families hadn't realized just how many people had been influenced and loved by their children.

The day of the funeral, a line of cars more than a mile long snaked from the mortuary to the cemetery where Bruce and Diane were buried side by side, the way they had lived, the way they had died.

The bodies of the young couple were put to rest, but the feelings of their families could not be placated by rituals and sympathy.

They left behind so many things undone, so many experiences unlived. These two families that had been so close and so complete are now disjointed ... only half families. The parents will never know their children as accomplished adults; never know the grandchildren they would have had. Brenda will never feel whole again, now that her twin brother is no longer a part of her life.

Herbert Colby left the hospital the day of the funeral. Stacy wouldn't leave for another six months, after more surgery and long, intensive therapy.

But the saga isn't over for Herbert Colby. The day after the funeral, he was arrested at his home. He was totally shocked when he was told he was under arrest. The charges were serious ... two counts of negligent homicide, one of endangering the life of others ... along with driving under the influence, and driving without a license, which had been revoked after a previous sentence of driving under the influence.

"I'd like to see him put away for as long as the law allows," Steve remarked as they sat in the courtroom.

"I'm afraid he'll get off with an easy sentence or even probation ... with their high-priced lawyers," contended Bill. "He'll be free to get in his car again, while drunk, and kill someone else until the laws are made more severe and enforced to the limit." RETURN HOME