Your dad installed the CB in his truck and continued going to Heber and Park City to work. It would be after the fact, that I would learn what had happened.
He headed up Provo Canyon early one snowy morning. He crossed over the road that led across Deer Creek Reservoir and headed toward Heber. The reservoir was on his left and the immediate mountain on his right. Being early, the traffic was very little.
He noticed a truck pull out from one of the roadways, speed up until it was close to his bumper. There were guys in the front of the truck and others riding in the bed of the truck. They followed him closely for a while until your dad saw a snowplow coming toward him. The plow was in the middle of the road coming directly toward the middle of your dad's truck. The only options he had was crashing into the mountainside, or swerving off into the reservoir. Instead, he chose option three. He reached to the side and took his 357 out of its opened case. He aimed it over the steering wheel toward the driver of the plow. It had become a life or death game of "chicken". When the plow came close enough that the driver saw the gun pointed at him, he swerved left and allowed your dad to pass by. The truck of men, however were still on his tail. He traveled further when another road appeared. From it, the Summit County Sheriff's vehicles pulled out behind the truck following your dad. Your dad pulled to the center of the road and slowed down. The truck behind him pulled over, surrounded by sheriff's cars. The CB radio had been used by your dad to contact the officers.
What happened after that, we do not know. We did not want to be involved any further. We just wanted our family safe and for all intent and purposes and for whatever reasons, we felt we were. We didn't see the two policemen after that. We saw no policemen after that; none down the street parked in front of our neighbors' houses nor up on Grandview Hill scoping our house with binoculars.
You began acting like our boy again, except for the whistling sound you sometimes made when you breathed that caused by a hole being burnt through the inner cartilage of your nose from your extensive use of snorting cocaine.
Once again, looking back, I recognize how naive I had been. Had I known what I learned years down the road, I would have known that your addiction had not been cured by the happenings of the past months. Your addiction was alive and well but now your drug of choice became pain pills.
You fell in love and married and had two beautiful little boys. They were your pride and joy and I was certain that if anyone could encourage you to beat your demons, it would be them. The girl you married had her own vices. Drugs knew no gender. You divorced her with the condition that you would have sole custody of Vince and Christian.
"It takes a village to raise a child" proved true with Vince and Christian. You had the help and support of your family in raising your sons. Your sisters tended and cared for them as they did their own.
You came to work in the family construction business with your dad and brother. Your drugs were a constant source of contention. There would be mornings you wouldn't show up for work without calling and I would drive to your house in Springville, worried with what I would find when I got there. When I would either find you drugged or sleeping off drugs, I would become angry. I would say all the things I thought might shock you into recognizing what you were doing. I would look for your drugs to flush down the toilet. I would call the doctors telling them not to prescribe pain pills for you. I would call the pharmacies and tell them you were an addict and not to fill any pain medicine prescriptions. Your addiction was constantly on my mind. What could I do? What could I say? Who could I get to help? From daylight to sunset, your problem had become mine.
I had become co-dependent.
-to be continued-