20 Year Reflection

by Katie Gorczyca

This reflection shares the events that took place on the day that Danny McCarthy died. Some information may be emotional to read. The names of those involved have been changed to protect their privacy. 

It was April 10th, 2003. I couldn’t tell you what I did earlier that day other than the daily motions of going to school. I remember my brother, Matt, up in his room as usual. I remember Danny and his friends in the basement watching movies, as usual. My dad was traveling and in Florida. Matt was a senior in high school, Danny was a junior. I was in sixth grade.

It was a typical night, until it wasn’t. Danny had a lot of creative ideas; ideas that didn’t necessarily fit the mold set up for kids in our community. One particularly bold idea was to submit a video into America’s Funniest Home Videos and, confident he would win, he would use his winnings to buy himself his dream car: a blue Subaru WRX. That night, Danny and his friends were going over to Kimball Farm in Westford to film a part of this funny video. So, after watching a movie together in the basement, the group of friends came up the stairs and filed out to their cars to make their way to their destination. 

I was sitting on the computer; my mom and I were watching Survivor in the family room when the group left. My mom asked Danny if he would be coming home that night or if he would be staying over at a friends' house. “I don’t know,” he responded. 

“Should I leave the light on for you?” mom asked.

“No,” he replied.

They left in a line of four cars. 

At the time we lived on Pope Road, a long street that is tree-lined and hilly. When Danny and his friends left, my mom and I turned back to our respective activities. I don’t know how many minutes went by, but it couldn’t have been more than 10.

We heard the door to our mudroom open, and one of Danny’s friends, Pete, came inside. He was out of breath and the look on his face told us that something was very, very wrong. He could only manage three words, “Dan. Luke. Tree.”

My mom bolted off the couch and went with Pete, who took her down the road, literally, still on our road, to where it happened. I turned back to my computer wondering what happened. I recall sending an AIM to my friends telling them that I think my brother was in some sort of accident, but asking them not to tell anyone because it probably wasn’t a big deal. “Probably just a broken leg, or something,” I typed.

The series of events that happened after that are a bit blurry. There are so many different vantage points of what happened that night depending on who you talk to. From my perspective, what seemed like hours went by before we got a phone call from my dad, still in Florida, who broke the news to us. But here’s a bird’s eye view of what happened.

Danny and his friend were in the last car in the lineup. Danny was in the passenger’s seat; Luke behind the wheel. The four cars headed down Pope Road toward Great Road. Danny and his friend thought it’d be funny to try and pass the other cars, so pulled into the left lane. What they didn’t see was the car coming in the other direction. Luke swerved to try and avoid the car; he swerved further left. In swerving to avoid the car, he hit a tree right off the side of the road, with the impact on the right side of the car. Right where Danny was sitting. 

Luke needed to be airlifted to the hospital. Danny was pushed so far back that the police thought he was sitting in the backseat. But they said he was alive. Both were wearing seatbelts. Neither had been using substances. No distractions, just speed. Just something that could happen to anyone. 

Danny died before they made it to the hospital. 

My dad got on the next flight home, and Matt and I were picked up and driven to the hospital. The local priest came to sit with us in the small room where families go to get the worst news. 

At some point, we went home. Without Danny. His slippers were still in the spot by the mantle, his guitars were still strewn about the house. Evidence of him everywhere.

April 10th, 2003 changed so many lives. And Danny’s legacy continues to change lives in the way our family has built and grown a space to support the kids of our community.