Recollections are fresh after five years

Southcoast Early Childhood Learning Center was an idyllic preschool

located in a quiet and charming residential neighborhood. The

director, Sheryl Hawkins, set the tone for the school with a caring

and gentle spirit. The classrooms were bright and large, the

courtyard had a garden with flowers, and wind chimes serenaded the

children. I had been bringing my children to the Southcoast preschool

since 1997.

My foster daughter was only 2 years and 2 months old on the day of

tragedy at the Southcoast Early Childhood Learning Center. She had

been with me for five weeks, and enrolled in the preschool for four.

Everything and everyone was still new to her. She was enjoying her

afternoon on the school playground. And then a car came crashing into

her world, the driver intending to murder her and all the other

little children.

I drove up to the school on that afternoon of May 3, 1999, just

moments after the crash. My realization of what happened unfolded in

slow motion. First, I saw the traffic stopping at the intersection

and people running, and I thought “Please God, not in our school.” As

parents came running out of the school and told me of the car crash,

I thought “Please God, not the children.” And as I went running into

the school courtyard, I was screaming for my daughter “Where is she?”

fearing the worst. And I was thinking “Please God, not my poor child

to whom I have promised safety.”

A moment of panic gripped me as I soon realized that my child had

been in this disaster. I found her standing in frozen silence beside

her writhing teacher. Blood was streaked across my daughter’s

sweatshirt.

I knelt on the ground, gathered my child into my lap and held the

hand of her teacher, while we waited for the arrival of the

paramedics and police.

It was then that I heard my own cries echoed in the voice of

Sierra Soto’s mother, screaming, “Where is she?” But this mother did

not get to embrace her child. This mother’s absolute worst fear was

realized. And to this day five years later, her cry of anguish and

rage at losing Sierra reverberates in my memory.

Every single person present at that school on Monday, May 3, 1999,

was the victim of a horrific crime. On that day, a man with murder in

his heart searched for a target, any target, and he found our

children. On that day, we all lost two children. On that day, our

sense of safety was forever shattered.

And yet, also on that day, the true meaning of community became

clear to me. In the moments just after the crash, a parent who was

already at the school had scooped up my child with hers as she pulled

them from the wreckage. The streets filled with neighbors all

offering to help. Paramedics, police, and hospital staff took great

care of us. My own friends and neighbors were ever-present in the

difficult hours and days that followed. And Costa Mesa Police Chief

Snowden was on hand during that time to express compassion to the

families and to share his own anger and sorrow.

It was indeed a devastating time made bearable by the strength of

a caring community. My foster daughter has since become my adopted

daughter. I do not take the health and well-being of my children for

granted. I try to keep my fears of future disasters at bay by giving

thanks every day for the time that we have.

I would like to take this opportunity to express thanks to

everyone who helped and reached out to us and the other affected

families during this tragedy.

RANDI RUBENSTEIN

Costa Mesa

The tragedy at Southcoast Early Learning Center hit me very hard

for a number of reasons.

You see, my son had just turned 5 years old at the time and was

attending The Children’s Center at Orange Coast College but we were

considering moving him over to Southcoast because it was closer to

home and the kindergarten that he would be attending in the fall.

Sheryl Hawkins was also a friend of mine because she and I had both

taught preschool at the Assistance League Children’s Center during

the eighties.

I had already been to visit her to discuss my son’s attendance at

her school and I even remember discussing my concerns about the chain

link fence around the playground. She had told me that she had asked

for a sturdier fence but was told that the fence was up to code and

that her request was denied. I was still considering sending my son

there anyway.

However, three days before the tragedy I was awakened from my

sleep by a horrible nightmare -- I dreamed that I had gone to pick my

son up from day care (at OCC) and was told when I arrived that he had

been run over and killed by a car in the parking lot. In my dream,

the car that had killed my son was an old Cadillac. When I woke up

the grief was so strong that I ran in to check on my son and even

though he was fine I was still disturbed to have had such a horrible

dream.

Three days later, I was at home and looked up in the sky to see a

large number of helicopters circling only a few blocks away. I turned

on the local news to see what was happening and found that my

horrible dream had come true ... only to someone else’s child. I ran

out the door and down the street to go to the school. Tears were

streaming down my face and I remember thinking that I might not want

to see what I was about to see, but I knew I still had to go. When I

got there, I saw the same car that I had seen in my horrible dream,

it was slammed up against a tree and they were just pulling the

killer out of the car. Looking at the scene that was before me, I

could hardly breathe. I was close enough to hear him say, “I know

what I did.” I could not believe, what was happening I stood there in

shock as I watched. This man was not crazed, but calm and resolved. I

felt sick and angry, but more than that, I felt empathy for the

parents.

Because of the dream I had had just a few days before, I felt as

if it had happened to my child. Indeed, it quite literally could have

been my child, and even though I did not know the children who died

that day, I cried for days afterward.

Hoping that I could do something to help, I started making calls

to people about getting a stronger fence put up and found that the

project was underway.

I went to the memorial service with my son because I wanted to be

there for those parents and because I wanted to comfort my friend. I

knew how much she cared about these children, and I knew she would be

hurting. But when I went outside to find her after the service, she

was already surrounded by paramedics. She had collapsed and suffered

a heart attack.

For me, the anguish of that day was so deep and so real, yet I can

only imagine what it would be like to be one of those parents, or

Sheryl, or one of the other teachers that were there that day. I

think I would have collapsed under the weight of it too.

TERRI RAWSON

Costa Mesa