The Long, Dark Tunnel

At 8:45, church was over and I called Ragina’s phone to check in. A man answered.

“What are you doing answering my daughter’s phone?” I said.

“The people you are trying to get a hold of have been in an accident,” he said.

“Oh, my God, those are my two daughters and my grandchildren. Are they okay?”

“That is what we are trying to find out. We have the police and ambulance on the way.”

“Where are you?”

“Shamrock, Texas …”

I heard sirens in the background, and then the phone went dead. My God, what should I do? I had to get home to Ken and let him know. We needed to find out if everyone was okay. I called Ragina’s husband, Jay, and asked him if he had heard anything about the girls being in an accident.

“No,” he said. “I just talked to Ragina, and everything was fine.” I told him about my conversation with the man who had answered her phone, who, I later learned, was a truck driver who had seen the accident. Jay didn’t seem to be very concerned. He just said he would call and see and call me back, which he never did.

I finally pulled into the driveway at home and rushed inside to tell Ken. We immediately jumped back in the car and started out for Shamrock. It would be about a six-hour drive from Spiro, Oklahoma, where we lived. …

We were just outside Oklahoma City when Renee’s husband, Tom, called me on my cell phone.

“Thelma?” he said.

“Yes?”

“We lost Jessica, Renee, and Ragina.”