My friend Heather is amazing. In addition to being exceptionally bright and an extremely talented actress, she’s also a warm and loving person. The way I can best put it is that she’s one of those people who, when something good happens, you want to immediately tell because you know she’ll make you feel even better about it. I have so many blessings in life, and there’s so much I’d love to tell her in person, but I can’t, because 20 years ago she was needlessly killed by someone being stupid with a car.
I can’t believe it’s been 20 years. She was always a little older, a little cooler, imbued with the kind of wisdom of two more years on Earth, which is worth a lot you’re so young. I’m not young anymore, but she always will be.
This is turning out to be harder to write than I thought. There was a rough outline in my head about what I’d say, and it doesn’t quite feel right. If you don’t end up reading any further, the crux of it is that I am the last person who can tell you not to do something dumb with a car. I love doing stupid things with cars. The important difference is that I try to be careful about doing it in a way that, if something goes wrong, I am the only one who gets hurt. The kid who killed my friend, who was also unimaginably young at the time of the crash, didn’t think like I do, and now all of us have to live with that mistake. All of us but her.
Maybe this doesn’t work if you don’t know Heather, so I need to talk about her a little bit.
It was a fluke that I got to know her. She was a year older. We went to rival high schools and, though we shared a love of theater, we didn’t really mix in the same circles. She was also just so much more of a fully formed human being than I was, and, for all my false confidence, I’m not sure I could have talked to her were it not for a bit of good luck.
Her high school was hosting its annual debate tournament, and it was about to turn into a disaster. Judges were being sent to the wrong rooms, rounds were being missed, and people were starting to notice. I was president of my school’s Speech & Debate team and was friendly with her school’s team (both of our football programs were bad, so the rivalry was more for amusement than pride). The tournament director asked if I could help, and, having already qualified for state, I was in no position to say no.
I had two requests, though. I’d need a walkie-talkie, and I’d need a runner to go with me to help cover the rooms.
As you might guess, I did not need a runner. I just made it up. I saw her across the room, a volunteer from the drama department somehow glowing in a green Conroe High School Theater t-shirt. I could barely see anything else.
She probably caught on fairly quickly that her assistance was not absolutely necessary, but she was kind enough not to let on as we wandered the halls trying to put everything straight before the whole tournament went off the rails. It was great. I don’t remember anything I did to help, but I do remember not wanting the problem to be solved too quickly. Just listening to her talk about her life, her schoolwork, her dreams… I barely felt nervous talking to her, even though I couldn’t ignore that she was very cute.
The nervousness didn’t come until the end when I asked her for a number. If we’d have gone to the same high school and she’d have known how much of a dork I was, this might not have gone so well. We exchanged notes and poems via text and AIM (she always loved Emily Dickinson). What followed was the briefest of romances–she did get to learn how much of a dork I was.
Though I wasn’t happy at the time that it ended, she gave me real confidence to back my bluster. It also probably didn’t hurt my romantic prospects that the girls at my school saw me dating someone as impressive and beautiful as Heather. Most importantly, I gained a great friend. A confidant. A hype man. Someone always in my corner.
There’s no way to know how someone’s life is going to turn out, I suppose. Everyone has a friend they think will make it as an athlete, musician, or actor. It doesn’t always happen, but with Heather, I don’t have many doubts. Her college was not too far from my own, and I was lucky enough to see her perform somewhat regularly. She’s just one of those actors who feels like a person you’ve watched your whole life, even if she’s only been on stage for 10 seconds.
It’s been 20 years. I almost couldn’t believe it when I saw it on Facebook. In the back of my mind, I knew this was coming. While I think about her often, the business of life and the passage of time mean that I don’t talk about her every day. It’s on her birthday and the day of her passing that her friends and family all post in the shared Facebook group, which, other than this job, is one of the few reasons why I still look at Facebook.
I remember getting the call. It was the next day, and her college roommate was on the other end of the phone. I was probably excited because I thought it was going to be about everyone meeting up one more time before the summer was over. Heather had been doing summer stock theater in Farmington, New Mexico, and had secured a job in New York that would make it possible for her to start auditioning — the first step in what I’m sure was going to be an amazing career.
Time stopped. It was awful. All the cliche denial and anger. It just didn’t seem possible. I didn’t want to believe it. I still don’t want to believe it. It’s painful in a way that still hurts two decades later. I keep having to stop writing this, because it’s just a little too fresh still. Somehow.
This is where you come in, I suppose. You should know that the person who killed her was driving a modified truck and was doing what you might call street racing. It was late at night, and Heather was leaving the performance in her metallic blue Mazda. She went through a green light at a normal rate of speed; he went through a red light at way more than the speed limit, and that was it. In a terrible act of cowardice, he fled the scene. He was later caught and went to prison.
My faith tells me it’s my obligation to forgive, and I’ve long since forgiven him. I’m sure that’s what she would have wanted. She was always thinking of other people. Her parents were visiting that week and saw her performance. During her last day on earth as just a 22-year-old, she told them that, if she didn’t make it in the business, she’d at least like to help other people try to follow their dreams.
That’s who she was. That’s who we lost.
Her dream does live on in that way, though. For 20 years, the Heather McGaughey Four Corners Theatre Academy has been helping young performers in the area work on their craft. It’s a beautiful tribute, but also a thing that didn’t need to exist. Or at least not yet. Not with her name on it. Not until the naming was out of recognition for her long and impressive career.
I know that most of you are not inclined towards putting anyone else in danger. That’s not the sense I get from most of this community. But things happen. Temptation exists, and I know I’ve felt it. All I’m asking is, when that temptation appears, you think about Heather and ask yourself if it’s worth it. If you’re sure that if it all goes sideways that everyone involved was aware of the risk.
Accidents happen on race tracks, and that’s a tragedy, but those people know they’re on a race track and should know the risks. My friend Heather wasn’t on a race track. She was just going home, ready to start her life. It’s not fair, and it never needed to happen.
It wasn’t easy getting to the end but felt I needed to out of respect for Matt taking the time to write what was obviously a very difficult piece and because I don’t shy away from the reality that there is a constant danger from cars both as driver or passenger, inside the car or outside it. All too easily forgotten day to day but stories like these help reinforce that there is a time and a place for having fun with cars.
Whilst I have always driven safely around others, there were times when I would drive fast just for the sake of it, not dangerously or even for kicks, just that the opportunity was there and I could, but it’s pointless and there is always a risk, however slight, of something going wrong.
Even though I would tell myself I was, as Matt puts it “doing it in a way that, if something goes wrong, I am the only one who gets hurt” there would still be other people affected who would have to live with that. The older I get the more I feel it just isn’t worth it. “Why not?” becomes “Why?”.
Thank you, Matt, for this remainder to stay human and take care of others. Beautiful words.
I can’t believe I’m reading this today…which already the worst day of my life so far. I am so sorry for your loss Matt. I really am….but for me, reading this is like strike 3 for the day and its not even noon. I want to offer sympathy, but right now I’m mad at a world where people like this exist and harm the good ones.
Its a bad date already for me, as its the 31st anniversary of a death of HS friend. Her stepfather was…doing evil things….and when she finally tried to say no…he…I can’t even type it,….but he died in prison.
Then I open up my email and get told that as of last Wednesdsay, one of the very best theater directors (and one the best humans) I have ever worked with is in critical care in Germany. None of us knew until now, but I guess she was the victim of a serial groomer and sex offender in her home country 20 years ago, and had the guts to tell her parents and get him behind bars. The offender was a high profile politician and of course, it ended his career. She has lived outside of that country for most of her adult life. She just couldn’t be there anymore with all the harrasment. People blamed her for his fall.
Someone outed her…maliciously, including her current address and workplace. I am being told the phone calls and emails from trolls were non-stop for weeks….her now ex-husband even got harrassed.
She hit her breaking point and performed an act of self harm last week, and may not make it. She isn’t even 35 years old.
This day sucks….fuck this day.
The world is a brutal place, I hope the coming days make up for the horrible day you’re stuck with today.
Death isn’t a problem for the dead; it’s a problem for those left behind, especially when a promising life has been needlessly cut short.
Having put down a second dog in the last three years on July 4th, I can attest to the pain never going away, no matter how much time passes.
I hope the person who caused all this pain has learned his lesson.
My condolences, Matt.
Matt, thank you for writing this. I’m sorry for your loss, and for everyone who loved Heather.
There are no words, but thank you for finding them.
You stopped me in my tracks. Beautifully written memorial.
this is an insanely powerful article, thank you so much for writing this. i’m so sorry for your loss, and from how this sounds, you honoring her memory is exactly what she would have wanted from you.
i feel like i learned early. i have friends who are still young and stupid and insist that this kind of shit is cool, and it pisses me off that this comment is as difficult to write as it is, but this story hits a little too personally for me.
someone i met, someone i came to like, someone i talked to occasionally, but was too shy to initiate much with, was unfortunately a victim of a similar fate in 2023. an enthusiast of cars and trucks alike, and an avid truck simmer like i was, Jeffrey, who would go by the alias BassOcean, was killed in a needless and reckless accident caused by the driver of a pickup truck he was in. there were four people in the truck, the driver was the only survivor.
it has been so so incredibly difficult for me to recall this, and i pray that no one else has to go through with losing a friend like this at such a young age, but it taught me that life is extremely fragile, and i need to treat it with care.
rest in peace jeffrey, i hope you’re up there aware that both the furry community and the Saturn community is still thinking about you. it hasn’t felt like it hasn’t even been two years yet, time has been somewhat slow down here, but i enjoyed every single time we talked. may your Ion be in good hands, i know how much you loved that car, and i’m sorry that you never got to grow up with it – but i hope anyone who’s made it through this article AND this comment, will take away a lesson that will prevent them from ever causing an event like this. i love you all, and thank you matt for writing this
I’m sorry for your loss, Matt. I’m sure Heather would be honored to read what you wrote here.
Mine as well. Even when it’s incredibly difficult to forgive, you’re never worse off for it. You’re a good man.
This is why it’s never felt right doing any sort of hooning on public roads. It’s morally wrong – end of discussion. Go to a track day if you’ve got the itch.
The piece is a great meditation on forgiveness. Unfortunately, the word gets combined too often with forgetting, but I think forgiving goes hand in hand with remembering when it’s done right.
It’s also considered far too often as the enemy of justice, but again proper justice can go hand in hand with forgiveness.
It’s complicated and hard, but in the long run it’s the best way to live.
Thanks for sharing this and I’m sorry for your loss. I lost several friends to driver stupidity when I was young(including a friend cycling to my house that got hit by a drunk driver) and it really f-ing sucked! You don’t just lose what you had but the future you would have had together as friends. We really appreciate you opening up about your loss and reminding us about the possble ramifications of being careless behind the wheel. She sounds like a wonderful human being and a good friend, as do you.
Very powerful and beautifully written; I know it was not easy, but you were right in that it needed to be shared.
Thanks for sharing this Matt, my brother was hit by a car while riding his bike (cue all the comments as to why this is his fault in 3…2…1…) a couple days ago and it’s been a pretty scary few days. We think he’ll make a full recovery but he was badly concussed, and broke 5 ribs, 2 cervical vertebrae, a few wrist bones, and has a deep laceration in his neck that barely missed his trachea, so it’s not going to be an easy one. The driver stayed following the accident fortunately, and doesn’t appear to have been racing, instead it seems he just wasn’t paying enough attention while turning left into a driveway. Still a reminder to never become complacent behind the wheel, slow down and look one more time before turning, and save the antics for your local drag strip, auto-x, hpde, or maybe even the empty abandoned mall parking lot.
That really sucks. I hope your brother makes a full recovery.
I’m so sorry to hear that, I hope he fully recovers.
That’s awful! My best to your brother.
Matt, I so much appreciate you sharing your loss. It couldn’t be easy, and it provides all of us a clear vision of why we all need to remember that our actions have consequences.
So sorry Matt. Thank you for writing this, though. Profound and beautiful as it is tragic and painful. Keeping her memory alive is the best thing that you can do. Peace… she sounds like she was a real gem.
As odd as it sounds, I hope the sense of loss never leaves you. It means everything you remember was right and good and had value.
All my condolescence Matt.
I’ve got nothing more to share beyond my sympathy, hopefully that helps a little.
🙁
Hugs.
I have stories to add but this was already painful enough.
Looking to read other articles, Heather’s beautiful face shows up and that she’s no longer on the planet haunts me. I hope she had your faith and is now in Heaven. I’ll meet you there some day too.
I’m so sorry for your loss, her family’s loss and the world’s loss.
After reading this and a couple of drinks, I left my car parked and took a Lyft to dinner and back.
The importance of a life, interrupted by someone who took their own life so callously.
So sorry for your loss Matt, thank you for sharing.
Reading this kind of centered me. …at the risk of a pun, I’ll confess that two days ago in a rare act of mindlessness I looked down a bit too long at google maps on my phone and for a second drifted into the other lane on the freeway. Luckily it was empty for a quarte mile in both directions and I immediately centered myself back in mine. But momentarily a thought did cross my mind that someone may have been there. A compete stranger from a distant walk of life I have no connection to. And considering the speeds, the weight, the stuff our cars are made of these days, the amount of potentially lethal force we have in our hands every time we get behind the wheel is really staggering. Especially knowing how fragile we are by comparison.
My condolences for your loss. Despite it being 20 years ago, I’m sure after writing about it, it feels as if it all happened yesterday.
A painfully profound article and a lot of profound, painful comments to read.
Back in the late 70s, when I was a police beat reporter for the newspaper in a town 11 miles away from where I was living, I had to get up at 4 in the morning and then drive over there to go through the logs of the police and sheriff’s offices and write up the blotter before deadline. I had a scanner in my car and a Nikkormat camera and photographed the aftermath of many fatal crashes.
Two days after a fatal rollover crash I reported on, where an unbelted passenger was ejected and crushed, I was on my way to work and saw my brother’s hopped-up pickup truck obviously rolled over in a field. I stopped and put the high beams on and searched around his truck for 10 minutes and didn’t find anybody. The cab was vacant.
I went on to work, but first called my parents, where he was living, to see if he somehow had gotten there and told them what I had come across. My dad checked his room and came back on the phone and said, “oh shit.” He wasn’t in his bed.
I told my dad I would call him back.
I called the closest hospital, and he was there. Injured, but in stable condition. I called my dad back and let him know.
I went to the hospital as soon as I could and asked my brother what happened.
He told me he was hooning around with two of his buddies in the cab, when something happened and they went off into the field and he recalled rolling at least twice before the battery got disconnected and the headlights went out. He said they all put their hands up towards the roof to keep it from caving in.
They were all belted, and all survived with no life-altering injuries. It could have gone so much worse.
I’m always struck by the terrible, unbearable permanence of such a loss. Like a door that suddenly closes and can never be opened again. You can’t go back, can’t undo anything, can’t say anything or change anything, helpless. You’re left only with memory, and your inevitable regrets, until its evocative impact slowly attenuates with time. You move forward and carry the guilt of leaving someone behind and your choices have been taken away.
sorry man 🙁