I Have Been a State Trooper for 19 Years. I Have Told Too Many Parents Their Adult Child Did Not Survive the Drive Home.

I have been a state trooper for 19 years. I have told too many parents their adult child did not survive the drive home. Every one of them could have saved their child's life.

The adult child I am writing about tonight is my best friend Jason. He was 32. His wife Sarah was 30. Their seven year old daughter Lily was in the back seat. Their five year old son Tommy was beside her.

None of them survived.

I am the trooper who arrived at the scene. I am the man who knocked on Jason's parents' door at 11:14 PM.

I am writing this at my kitchen table at 4 AM because I cannot sleep.

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My name is Sergeant Brady Wall.

I am 47 years old. I have been an Illinois state trooper for 19 years. I have worked DUI enforcement for the last nine. I am married to my wife of 21 years. I have two sons, 22 and 19.

Jason was my best friend.

We met when we were 15. We were in the same homeroom in tenth grade. We were the best men at each other's weddings. I am the godfather of his daughter Lily. He was the godfather of my older son. Our wives have been best friends for 19 years.

I have been a cop for 19 years. I have stood on a hundred porches at 11 PM waiting for someone to open the door so I could tell them their child was not coming home. I have watched a hundred parents become a different person than they were three minutes earlier.

I have never knocked on a door like the one I knocked on at 11:14 PM yesterday.

Brady in his patrol car after the notification. He sat there for 40 minutes before he could drive.

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Jason was the kind of man I wanted my own sons to grow up to be.

He drank socially. A few beers with me on a Saturday afternoon watching the game. A couple glasses of wine at family dinners. He had never had a DUI in his life. He was the most responsible 32 year old man I have ever known.

That is the entire reason I am writing this.

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Every driver I have notified parents about losing was someone like Jason.

Responsible. Successful. Kind. The kind of son or daughter who would never describe themselves as someone who drinks and drives.

That is not who dies on a Saturday night on a country road. Nine out of ten of the drivers I notify parents about are the ones who felt completely fine when they got behind the wheel.

The ones who I notify parents about are the ones who had two beers at a coworker's birthday and felt completely fine. The ones who had three glasses of wine at a wedding and were the designated driver because they were the most sober person at the table. The ones who drove home Sunday morning after a weekend with friends not realizing they were not fully sober. The ones who had a couple cocktails at their book club. The ones who told their parents on the phone an hour earlier that they were having a great time.

They were doing great. They felt great. They were also at .09.

What Parents Cannot See

There is a thing about a blood alcohol of .08 that parents do not know.

You cannot see it.

A 32 year old man at .08 walks like a sober man. Speaks like a sober man. His eyes are clear. He can count backward from 100 by sevens. He can hold a conversation about his daughter's soccer game. He can recite his license plate from memory.

He looks fine because at .08 he IS fine in every way you can observe across a dinner table.

He just cannot drive.

I have made over 600 DUI arrests in my career. In 562 of them, the driver did not look impaired when I first approached the car. They walked normally. They spoke normally. They passed every field sobriety test my eyes could give them.

The device proved them over.

The visible signs of drunkenness — the slurred words and unsteady walk — do not appear in most drivers until .14 or higher. By the time anyone can see someone is impaired, they are already at almost twice or three times the legal limit.

Almost no one who dies on the road is at .14. The deaths happen between .08 and .12.

Your responsible adult child cannot tell when they are at .09 instead of .07. Your eye cannot tell either. Their spouse cannot tell. Their kids cannot tell.

There is only one thing that can tell. It is a device like the SoberSense Pro. It has the same components as the breathalyzer we use as police.

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Jason's Last Night

Jason was at a coworker's wedding yesterday. He had three beers across four hours. He was driving Sarah and the kids home.

A coworker of Jason's named Mike walked them to their SUV at 9:14 PM. He told me on the phone this morning that he watched Sarah ask Jason in the parking lot if he was okay to drive.

Jason told her he was fine.

Mike said he agreed with Jason. He told me Jason had been the most sober person at the table. Mike walked back into the venue and watched them drive away.

Jason felt fine.

He was wrong.

The investigation report came back this morning. Jason's blood alcohol at the time of the crash was .11. The legal limit is .08. He was over.

There was no other vehicle. No animal in the road. No mechanical failure. He left the venue at 9:14 PM. He hit a tree at 9:47 PM on a stretch of Route 32 he had driven for 11 years.

He drifted off the road because he was over the legal limit and did not know it.

I was the second unit on the scene.

I recognized the SUV from a quarter mile away as I drove up.

Brady at Jason's funeral. He was the one who gave the eulogy.

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I am going to stop telling you about Jason for a moment.

I want to talk to every parent and every driver reading this.

I am not telling you not to drink. Having a beer at a barbecue is normal. Having a glass of wine at dinner is normal. Having a couple of drinks at a wedding is what most people do.

I am asking you to do one thing.

Check yourself before you drive.

Get a SoberSense Pro. Get one for your children. Get one for your friends. Keep it in your glove compartment. Blow into it before you turn the key. Find out what your real number is. Do not guess. Do not trust your feeling. Your feeling is wrong sometimes. The number is not.

If you are over the legal limit, call an Uber. Call your spouse. Call a friend. Sit in the parking lot for an hour. Do anything except drive.

I am asking you to be the person who checks before they drive.

The 18 Month Confession

I have known about the SoberSense Pro for 18 months.

I bought four of them the morning after I pulled a 62 year old man out of a wrecked sedan on a country road in October. The man had ordered a bottle of wine for the table at his anniversary dinner with his wife of 41 years. He had felt fine. His blood alcohol was .14. His wife had died at the moment of impact.

I drove home that night and looked at my own wife sleeping. I ordered four SoberSense Pros on my phone in the kitchen at 4 AM.

I gave four to my wife and my two sons the next Sunday at my own kitchen table.

I never gave one to Jason.

I saw him every other weekend for 18 months. I watched him drink a beer with me on my porch. I watched him drive home. I never once said the word breathalyzer to him. I never once said: "Jason, I want you to have one of these."

I dropped the subject because Jason was my best friend and I did not want to lecture him.

The four devices Brady ordered the morning after the crash. The one he never gave Jason was in his kitchen drawer for 18 months.

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The Door I Knocked On at 11:14 PM

I knocked on Jason's parents' door at 11:14 PM.

His father's name is Hank. He is 71. Retired electrician. He taught Jason how to wire a house when Jason was 14. He has been married to Jason's mother Eleanor for 49 years. They had one son. They had three grandchildren.

Now they have one.

Hank answered the door in pajamas. He knew before I spoke. Eleanor came out of the bedroom. I told them both at the same time. Eleanor collapsed against the hallway wall.

Hank sat down on the floor next to her. He held her shoulders for two minutes.

Then he looked up at me and said: "all of them."

I said: "all of them."

Hank said: "Mia is at her aunt's. We have to call her aunt before someone else does."

I drove Hank to the aunt's house at 12:14 AM. The aunt opened the door. Hank said: "we have to wake Mia up. Before someone shows it to her on a phone."

I stood in the aunt's living room while Hank woke his 11 year old granddaughter up at 12:34 AM to tell her she was the only grandchild left.

Mia did not cry at first. She asked Hank where her mother was. She asked where Lily was. She asked where Tommy was.

Hank held her on the couch until 2 AM.

I drove home.

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The Letter in My Nightstand Drawer

I sat in my older son's bedroom for 40 minutes when I got home.

He is 22. He drives a truck. There is a SoberSense Pro in his glove compartment that I gave him 18 months ago. I have never asked him if he uses it. I have never made him show it to me. I have never made him tell me a number.

I am his father. I have spent 19 years telling other parents what I am about to tell you. I have never said it to my own son.

I went to my own bedroom. I could not sleep. I came down to the kitchen at 4 AM. I wrote my son a letter.

The letter is in my nightstand drawer now. I have not given it to him.

It says one thing.

I am going to give it to him this morning.

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If you are a parent of an adult child reading this, your child is not the reckless one I am writing about. Your child does not drink and drive. Your child is the responsible one. The kind one. The successful one. The one you raised right.

That is exactly who I am writing about.

The drivers I notify parents about losing are not reckless children. They are responsible children who guessed wrong about a number they had no way to measure.

You can change that for your own family this week.

Get a device like a SoberSense Pro for each of your adult children. Then sit with them this Sunday and make them open it. Make them blow into it three times in front of you. Make them tell you the number they got. Make them promise you they will use it every time they drive your grandchildren anywhere.

Then check in with them every month. Ask them when they last used it. Ask them what number they got. Make it a conversation that does not end.

I had four breathalyzers in my kitchen for 18 months. I never gave one to Jason. I am going to live with that the rest of my life.

It costs $85. It uses the same fuel cell sensor I carry in my cruiser. I have tested it against my department issued breathalyzer 11 times in the last two years. It has been within .003 of the official reading every time. I stake my professional reputation on the consumer device being accurate.

It will tell your adult child a number that their feeling cannot tell them.

I am going to be at Jason's funeral on Friday. I am going to stand next to Hank and Eleanor. I am going to hold Mia's hand. I am going to think about every parent reading this who still has time to give the device I never gave my best friend.

You have time. Use it.

If there is someone in your life you have been meaning to give a device to and you have not yet, please share their name below. The more of us who say their name out loud, the fewer of us who lose them.

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