Two Counts of Negligent Homicide

by Glenn A Trolz II

A California man was charged Wednesday with two counts of negligent homicide in connection with a June 19 traffic accident that killed a Brooklyn mother, and her son. Glenn A. Jones of Los Angeles faces up to four years in prison in the deaths.

From Michigan, I had just moved to California, near my mom, a year before that terrible event. My life was just getting back to normal after a bitter divorce had separated my family into hateful adversaries. Meanwhile, in Michigan, my father was recovering from a year of chemotherapy. I was 24, and was working in Santa Monica for a small production company. This had been a dream of mine since I was about sixteen. I was always in a hurry, and was never satisfied with anything. I had had a few disappointments in my life, and held a lot of anger inside. If I had an inner voice back then, I did all I could to shut it up. I filled my life up with things that left me empty inside. A few days before Fathers Day in 1994, I made plans to fly back to Michigan, to visit my Dad for a weekend.

I was driving to meet him and some others at his cottage for lunch. I never made it. I was speeding down a country road, and my life turned on its head. As the road was flying under the car, as a blur of tar and granite, simultaneously, a mother and her son entered the roadway.

I sometimes picture in my mind what the whole event might have looked like to God in heaven. I wonder why an Omniscient being, who could have moved that this thing not come to pass, did not do so. I also wonder why I was spared. Although I braked my car at the first moment possible, the car skidded 100 yards, and hit her broadside. If you have ever been in a car accident, you know how time feels when you realize that you are going to be in a violent collision. It felt like events and motion were occurring much slower than they actually were. I felt sick in the pit of my stomach, followed by an almost blinding rush of adrenaline. The impact, felt like being inside a giant tin, had been picked up, and shaken furiously for one full second; followed by stillness and silence. My mouth was tack dry, and my face felt incredibly numb and swollen. There was blood on my clothes, a sharp pain jetting out of my ankle. I was dumbfounded. My ears began to ring; I fought this because I knew that this was my fault. I needed to help the others. One of first things I remember thinking was who was inside? Maybe they would be O.K. No, I knew that would be impossible. I screamed in fear ARE YOU ALRIGHT!? There was no answer, I began to sob. Looking down, I noticed that my brake pedal leg, half way below the knee, was broken completely in two. The bone protruded through my slacks, hanging by the muscle.

I began to realize how foolish it had been to be going so fast, nearly 85 mph. I was crying out loud. Looking around, I noticed what a beautiful day it was, how blue the skies were, and how magnificent the clouds Then I realized that I had never really observed that before. Moments later, a truck that I had passed minutes before, stopped at the scene. Inside was a older man and his wife, only the man got out of his truck. As he approached, I realized that I could not get out of the car. and that I was speechless. I just looked at him as he appraised the details, which I could not see from my vantage point. His attention quickly shifted from me, to the other car. I began to feel as though I were about to pass out, again my vision began to close in. Moments later, he came to my window. He shouted "Do you realize what you've done?" With my heart pounding, I began apologizing and crying for going so fast. He did not speak to me again.

The sound of a machine in the distance clearly became a helicopter. The heat of the day was incredible. I realized it was overhead, wind was kicking up dust. Flying tiny rocks were adhering to my face, and stinging the cuts which were filling with salty sweat. I never saw the helicopter, or the accident victims, but I was afraid of what had happened to them. Technicians now on the scene put me in the ambulance. I began demanding information about the others, but they would simply say "we are doing all we can for them." The incredible pain in my leg was equal to the pain in my heart, and the screaming siren exacerbated my headache. Then in the radio blurbs, I heard it. "We are in route to the hospital with two D.O.A.'s" I was hysterical, and my mind felt as though it were going to burst.

At my sentencing, the judge told the court that I may as well have taken a gun out that Fathers day, and murdered these people. I will never forget that statement. I suppose if you look at it like that, the gun is like the car and the bullets might be the fuel in the car. I was the trigger man. I honestly do not think that I had any intent on doing any harm to anyone, not even myself. I was just not thinking about the consequences of my actions, or how my actions could be affecting other people.

I spent a long lonely year imprisoned, without ever stepping outside, even one single day. Christmas was a hard time, and over the long days inside, I read a lot of books on spirituality, and have come to terms with what happened. I do not consider myself highly spiritual, but I know now what is meant by the inner voice, and I seek it's wisdom. To serve as a reminder of my past immaturity, I spend 24 hours, one night a year on the floor of a dark cold jail floor.

I moved back to California in January 1997 to work. I'm an Administrative Assistant in a manufacturing firm. I'm building a life for myself and will hopefully find a loving wife get married and have a child.

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