At Erick Rehkopf’s sentencing hearing, I read the following statement:

Your honor, when the defendant chose to drive his car with three passengers while intoxicated and crashed it into the back of a turning tractor trailer, I sustained serious, life-threatening injuries. Two of my ribs were broken, my scalp was peeled back from the top of my head, and two vertebrae in my neck were broken causing spinal cord injury and paralysis.

I was hospitalized in the intensive care unit at Vanderbilt Medical Center for one week, where I was on a ventilator for four days and endured a 10½ hour operation to repair my shattered neck. I had both anterior and posterior surgery where the shards of what was left of my fourth and fifth cervical vertebrae were removed and my third and sixth cervical vertebrae were fused using metal plates, a donor cadaver bone, and a bone removed from my own right hip.

I have a spinal cord injury at the level of my fourth and fifth cervical vertebrae, which makes me a C4/C5 quadriplegic. After a spinal cord injury, messages below the level of injury are unable to get past the damage in the spinal cord. This means sensory messages, like hot, cold, touch, pain, and pressure; and motor messages, which tell my body when and how to move, are lost below the level of the injury. I was completely paralyzed from the neck down.

Through eight weeks of intensive inpatient physical and occupational therapy at a specialty, critical care hospital in Atlanta, Georgia, six months of biweekly outpatient physical and occupational therapy at one local hospital, and continuing biweekly physical and occupational therapy at another local hospital, I have been able to increase my strength, endurance, and range of motion.

My medical bills, and other associated costs have been astronomical. To date, my medical invoices have totaled $433,785.26. I have paid $3,074.51 in prescription medications. I had to be evaluated for driving at a cost of $170.00, purchased a van to accommodate my wheelchair for $35,281.38 plus interest, and added modifications that allow me to drive for $3,670.22. My home was made wheelchair accessible and modified for my use at a cost of $5,818. The running total to date for these expenses is $481,799.37 plus interest, and that figure continues to grow every week.

I have always thought that justice should involve equity. Call me old school, but I think God was on to something with that whole “eye for an eye” thing. Unfortunately, in this case and in so many others like it, there can be no real equity.

The defendant will never know the fear of feeling detached from his own body, like a head pinned and dragged down by over 100 pounds of dead weight, the frustration of willing his body to move and getting nothing, or the confusion of being certain his leg is bent when it is, indeed fully outstretched. He’ll never know the panic of not being able to breathe because his lungs are full of fluid, but not being able to cough because his diaphragm is paralyzed. He’ll never know the indignity of being turned in his bed like an overgrown rag doll every four hours so that he doesn’t get skin sores or develop respiratory problems. He’ll never know the humiliation of having his bowel and bladder functions managed and discussed by others because those muscles, too, are paralyzed. He’ll never know the disappointment of learning he might never have another orgasm.

But I know.

The defendant will never have to ask someone to blow his nose, bathe him, dress him, or brush his teeth. He’ll never have to see the frustration in the eyes of his loved ones because he has to ask them to pick up the item he dropped for the twentieth time. He’ll never have to be fed breakfast by an 80-year-old hospital volunteer because he can’t hold a spoon, and, even if he could, he couldn’t get that spoon to his mouth. He’ll never have to endure the physical pain, mental exhaustion, and emotional struggle of learning to sit up again, learning to roll over again, learning to feed himself again, learning to stand again, learning to walk again, and learning to trust his dysfunctional body again after it has betrayed him so blatantly for everyone to see.

But I have.

He’ll never have to pretend not to notice people stare at him. He’ll never have to watch a stranger purposefully avoid his aisle in the grocery store. He’ll never have to see a mother lead her child away from him because the child might say something that will embarrass her.

But I do.

I’ll never be able to use my right hand again, and I’m right handed. I’ll never be able to hug my daughter properly with both arms or dance at her wedding. I’ll never be able to pick up my grandkids. I’ll never be able to run and play with them. I’ll always be Grandma who’s in a wheelchair.

Every day I live with constant, burning nerve pain, for which there is no truly effective treatment. I take eight prescription medications and three over-the-counter medications four times a day to manage this pain, to control my bowel and bladder function, to fight infection, and to keep my body from seizing and going into uncontrollable spasms.

For the past 30 days I have been treated for a serious infection of the urinary tract and kidneys. I am seeing a Urologist who believes that this will be an ongoing issue, and is pessimistic that medication alone will fix the problem. The implication is that I will have to begin self-catheterization, a huge blow to my independence and normality.

Last month I fell in my bathroom while transferring from the toilet to my chair, twisting my right knee and ankle, bruising my foot, causing painful injury to my hamstring, and setting my physical therapy back three weeks.

You see, my spinal cord injury is not just something that happened to me last March. Its primary symptoms and secondary complications present an ongoing battle that I will fight for the rest of my life.

I know Erick is scared today, and he should be. But what ever sentence he gets, mine is greater. I want him to know that and live with it every day. He’s been nervous and scared for the past six weeks, not knowing what will happen today. And he’ll get his sentence, what ever it is, and he’ll serve it, and he’ll be done with it, and he’ll go on with his life. He’ll celebrate that this is all over, that he can put it behind him. I can’t put this behind me. I’ll never get to a point where this is over for me. This is my life now.

He’s done nothing to express any remorse to me. He’s never called to see how I was doing. He never contacted my family for any information. He may have been instructed not to contact me by his attorney, but these are things that a remorseful, feeling, caring, normal human being should do, regardless of any instruction to the contrary. But the most telling thing about the quality of his character is that, in my opinion, he has never really acknowledged guilt. He almost took this to trial, as if he takes no responsibility for my broken body. I saw him shake his head in defiance as the facts of the case were being read into record at his plea hearing. He should be ashamed of himself for that. He cannot change what he will not acknowledge, and I fear he will repeat his actions of that night, and damage someone else.

I’m sure I sound quite bitter at this point, but this has not been an altogether negative experience. I have learned quite a bit about the importance of family, friends, and prayer. I have learned new, deeper meanings of the words strength and fear. I am finally beginning to recognize and understand the extent of my capabilities, both physical and mental.

Your Honor, the body you see before you is a work in progress. It is being reclaimed every day from the most terrifying experience of my life. I am beating the odds. But my successes in no way lessen the responsibility of the defendant. I am what I am today because of my hard work, the strength of my resolution, and my interminable will to fight. These things are mine, and he should in no way get credit for them.

So, understanding that there can be no equity, what is justice? When I was told this is a probationable offense, my husband was delighted because, in his words, ‘now the deadbeat can work to pay off our debt from medical expenses,’ I felt like I had been kicked in the chest. I cannot emphasize enough how enraged I am by the thought that the defendant might get any probation. I find it absolutely ludicrous, and I am not okay with that possibility.

I feel very strongly that jail time is in order here. The defendant has agreed to a sentence of three years. Make him live those three years in prison. My injuries, which are a direct result of his actions, have reduced my life expectancy by more than three years. And these injuries, try as I might, will never go away. I know it sounds cliché, but I have been given a life sentence.

So, Your Honor, I ask that you impose the maximum penalty allowed by law, because anything less would be unjust.