News Photo by Julie Riddle Judge Thomas LaCross, of Alpena’s District Court, talks about the news story he has every convicted drunk driver read — a story of three children killed by a drunk driver.

ALPENA — “What would you do if the most important people in your life were suddenly taken from you and the only way to see them is to visit a grave site?” the essay began.

More than 100 essays, tucked into files at the Alpena County District Court, chronicle the sadness, concern, and resolve of people who have been arrested for drunk driving in Alpena County.

For the past year, Judge Thomas LaCross has given every defendant convicted of drunk driving the same assignment — a 500-word essay reacting to a 2019 news story about three little girls who were killed by a drunk driver.

The essays — some neatly typed, some scrawled on lined paper — bear one consistent message from people who once got into the driver’s seat while intoxicated themselves: That could have been me.

“It killed me inside.”

Some of the essays are written in haste, without thought, simply to pacify the court.

Others are sincere.

Defendants who are quiet or even surly in court may write volumes, words heavy with emotion.

It may be the first time some of them have really thought about what might happen when someone drinks and drives.

“Small, innocent children shouldn’t have their lives cut short because a selfish and ignorant adult overestimated their ability to drive a vehicle.”

Many of the essayists are angry after reading the story of girls killed by the intoxicated driver of a pickup truck outside a small Ohio city.

They’re angry children were killed. Angry that those deaths were at the hands of people who had decided to drink and drive.

Angry at themselves, because the driver could have been them.

“I need to make amends to all the innocent people in Alpena that I put in jeopardy that night.”

It’s not uncommon for writers to thank the police officers who stopped them or the court system prosecuting them.

Even the ones reading the essay while sitting in jail.

For some, it took police lights in their rear-view mirror to uncover a deep-rooted problem they’d been hiding from for years.

“About halfway home I began to think that I may have made a wrong choice.”

They were just buzzed. They thought they would be OK. They didn’t want to walk the six blocks to the store.

It’s not worth it, the essayists attest, over and over. It’s not worth the risk.

Someone could get killed.

“My children deserve to have a mom who makes good decisions.”

Many of the essay writers are parents. For them, the essays say, reading about children being killed especially hit home.

They could have killed a child.

They could lose their own child if someone else gets drunk and then gets behind a steering wheel.

“This time I failed him. But it won’t happen again.”

Some defendants don’t want to tell their families they’ve gotten in trouble.

LaCross encourages talking about it, though.

A parent admitting they’ve done wrong can be a powerful learning tool, the judge said. If Mom or Dad says they were wrong, that they were stupid, that they could have done irreparable harm, maybe the next generation won’t have to make the same mistakes.

“I thought … ‘What if I was the one who did this to that family?'”

The writers tried to imagine what it would be like to lose a child. To be a parent, trapped in the front seat of a vehicle, your children in the back seat, dying.

To plan a funeral with three small caskets.

I could have caused that, they said.

“I was that someone.”

They wondered how the driver will live with himself the rest of his life, knowing everyone he knows sees him differently.

Knowing he killed children.

Knowing there’s nothing he can do to make it right.

It could have been them, they said, over and over.

“No more stupid choices. No more putting people at risk.”

It isn’t going to happen to them, they said.

They’re going to change.

Writers pledged to not drink and drive, to take keys away from intoxicated friends, to never touch alcohol again.

Whatever it takes, they said, to keep that from being me. To keep children from dying.

“I have no choice but to do the right thing now and remain sober, not just for myself, but for my family.”

It’s early to know if the essay strategy is having any lasting effect, LaCross said. Signs are good, though, that it’s working.

In 2019, 108 people were brought before the court for driving under the influence.

Of the 41 ordered to complete the essay once LaCross implemented the policy mid-year, 37 completed the assignment, and four did not.

Of the four, half violated probation or incurred a new criminal charge.

Only eight of the 37 who completed the essay violated probation. Four essayists on probation — or 11% — received a new criminal citation.

In sobriety court circles, any recidivism rate below 30% “is pretty darn good,” said Liz Skiba, magistrate for District Court.

“My example I set will be my apology.”

None of the essays are perfect.

The perfect response to the news story he shares is that it would be read once, and nobody would ever drink or drive again, LaCross said.

But it got them thinking, the judge said. And, perhaps, it will stop them the next time.

It’s something, he said. It’s a start.

Julie Riddle can be reached at 989-358-5693, jriddle@thealpenanews.com or on Twitter @jriddleX.