When I arrived on scene, the flashing lights from the first responders danced across the wreckage like a grim strobe. Two cars—head-on. Both mangled beyond recognition at the front, the metal torn like paper. The kids inside were still dressed up—tuxedos, gowns, glitter in their hair. One girl was slumped over in the passenger seat, not moving. The driver of the other car was yelling, blood running down his face, but still coherent. I called in the medics again, just to confirm they were en route, while trying to keep my voice steady. Prom night. You never forget the ones like this.
I found a phone on the ground still playing music—something soft, probably the last song they danced to. I shut it off and bagged it. We do the job, we follow protocol, but when you’re standing over a kid who should’ve been on their way to an after-party instead of a stretcher, it hits different. I helped the EMTs load one of the girls, barely breathing, and then turned to start collecting witness statements. That’s what you do—hold the line, stay focused. Later, when it’s quiet, that’s when it catches up to you.
Special moments deserve to be remembered—so take a moment beforehand to talk about how to stay safe on the road.