Abbeys Story

Abbey is recovering, slowly but progressively, from a severe brain injury. In February 2011 she was a vibrant and attractive 19-year-old, living life to the fullest in a small country town in Victoria. She ran 5 kilometres twice a day, was an athlete, played cricket and football, was an apprentice builder, and achieved fame as the first female in 75 years to become a volunteer firefighter with the town s brigade. 

These background circumstances were provided by Abbey s parents, as Abbey (like Sam and so many with brain injury) has no recall of the events preceding or for some time after her crash. 

The crash occurred on a section of local road near her hometown, a section with which she was very familiar. It was a typical two-lane, two-way rural road and was part of a route Abbey had driven frequently with her father while she was a learner driver acquiring the 120 hours of supervised experience required before a Victorian learner can apply for a provisional driving licence. Her parents had been conscientious in ensuring that she logged her quota of hours under a variety of driving conditions. 

The local impact on the community was substantial. The local policeman, known to the family, held Abbey s hand while her colleagues from her local volunteer fire brigade helped release her from her trapped position in the car. Her mother arrived on the scene while the recovery process was still underway, and her father soon after. There was none of the victim anonymity that helps shield emergency services folk in large urban areas, and her parents experienced, firsthand, the full horror of the crash. 

The police report states that the road was dry, the weather clear, and the skid marks extended for 70 metres. The engine and forward suspension had separated from the vehicle. The police estimate of precrash speed was 170 km/h, an estimate Abbey s parents dispute. Abbey s mother subsequently drove the same route at the speed limit to measure the time she took between the service station and the crash scene to compare it with Abbey s time computed from a cell phone record of a call from Abbey made at the time of refuelling to the time of the crash reported by witnesses. The times correlated closely. While the bulk of the trip may have been made at or close to the speed limit, there can be little doubt that the precrash travel speed over the second crest was well above the posted limit of 100 km/h. Speeding, it 

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For accounts of the tours, see Peter Kavanagh, The Story of the Abbey Theatre (New York Devin-Adair, 1950), pp. 96-9 Lennox Robinson, Ireland s Abbey Theatre A History (London Sidgwick Jackson, 1951), pp. 95-9 Lady Augusta Gregory, Our Irish Theatre, pp. 97-135. 

When we think of victims of road trauma, we tend to think of people like Jan and Noel, or Sam, or Abbey, people who (as we saw in Chapter 2) have been injured in crashes and who bear the physical and mental scars of their trauma. What we tend to overlook is that many more people are affected by each and every crash. In addition to family and friends, there are the unsung people who respond to road crashes, who are tasked with the job of telling parents that their child will never come home, or who try in vain to keep someone alive despite horrific injuries. For many emergency service personnel, despite it being part of the daily routine in their working life, they are deeply affected. Here are Richard and Kate s stories. 

Apart from telling deeply moving personal stories at each and every public opportunity, we must combat the blame the victim mindset. This can best be done by using the personal stories of blameless victims like Noel, Sam, and Abbey and the frontline folk like Richard and Kate. We must work with the media to ensure coverage of these cases, particularly the follow-up describing the long-term impacts. We must emphasise the personal impacts of the road trauma. 

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