Dear A.T.,

You killed my brother; I remember it as if it were yesterday, not six and a half years. It was Nov. 21, 2009, and it was just another ordinary day for my parents and me. I had my good friend, Chris, over, and we were playing with my new kitten (I couldn’t wait to introduce her to my brother) and recording funny videos of the two of us pretending to be zombies. After Chris left, my brother called. I picked up the phone, and I remember how excited I was as I told him all about the cat and that I couldn’t wait to show him the videos Chris and I had made. He told me he couldn’t wait either and that I could show him in a few days when he came home for Thanksgiving. We talked for a little while longer, a smile on my face the entire time. Now, some people say that twins have a certain type of bond that connects them — if one breaks an arm or is hurt, the other can feel their pain. My brother and I were six years apart, but I believe we had that special connection. I still don’t know why I said it, but before I hung up the phone I felt such a strong feeling of worry, that I actually said, “Please be careful tonight, Erik." My brother chuckled and promised he would. We said our goodbyes, and I hung up. Little did I know that would be the last time I spoke to my big brother.

It was around 3:30 in the morning when my parents came into my room and woke me up. I was very confused and tired when my dad said, “Julie, Erik’s been in an accident,” but as the words sunk in, all traces of sleep vanished. My parents told me they were going to catch the earliest flight to Tampa, Fla. (my brother was a junior at the University of Tampa), and they asked if I wanted to go with them or if I wanted them to call my grandma to come stay with me while they went. I immediately said I wanted to go with them. We packed up after that and headed to the airport to catch the first flight out of the Westchester airport. I remember looking out the window as we were starting our descent into Tampa and leaning over to my dad, asking him, “Can we get Erik some flowers and chocolate to cheer him up?" My dad looked at me sadly and said that Erik wasn’t in a condition to receive gifts. I was confused. My parents hadn’t told me the extent of my brother’s condition.

One of Erik’s best friends from college picked us up from the airport and drove us to the hospital, Tampa General. He told us that he had been trying to get in to see Erik for hours, but no one would let him through because he wasn’t family. We told the nurses he could come in with us, and then the four of us were being led to the trauma intensive care unit of the hospital. Before we entered my brother’s room, the nurse warned us about how my brother looked. I still didn’t understand fully, but dread was beginning to settle into my bones. We entered the room and I fainted when I saw what you had done to my brother.

Erik was lying in the hospital bed in a coma. He had two broken legs, a broken arm, lacerations all over his body, a broken pelvis and severe brain swelling. Once I came to after the first look at my brother, I was completely numb. My mom was crying and holding his hand and my dad was holding mine. We talked to him and cried over him, hoping to see some response. Nothing. After we spent a few minutes with him, we left the room and met with someone who told us all the details of the accident.

Erik and his friends had decided to go get a late night/early morning snack at the local Metro Food Mart near the school. Erik and Cree (a girl who was visiting one of her friends at Tampa who happened to be friends with my brother) had been flirting and hanging out together. The two of them fell a little behind the others to talk on their way back from the mart. As they were crossing the street, which was completely empty, you, sir, came barreling down the road and hit Erik and Cree. The impact from the car destroyed the right side of Cree’s body, nearly breaking every bone. Her jaw was ripped off and she suffered (and still suffers) from brain damage. Erik landed directly on his head. The two friends who had gone ahead turned around because they heard what sounded like, "heavy boxes being dropped onto the ground." Instead they saw Erik’s and Cree’s bodies lying on the ground, bloodied and broken, while you sped away. When the paramedics arrived, Erik’s heart wasn’t beating. They got it beating again, but he was already gone.

The doctors ran a few more tests and procedures to drain the fluid from his brain, which would help with bringing the swelling down. He was unresponsive. Nothing worked. After that first moment spent with him on the 21st, late at night the doctors pronounced him brain dead. On Nov. 23, 2009, Erik was taken off life support. There was nothing more we or the doctors could do. We said our goodbyes and went to the university to clear out his apartment. Then we packed up his car and drove back home to New York. We got home on Thanksgiving, which we didn’t celebrate. The wake and funeral were a day later, and then my parents had to bury their son and my brother.

You didn’t just kill my brother, A.T. You killed my mother. You killed my father. You killed me. None of us wanted to live without the brightest part of our world. You tore out our hearts, broke them into a million pieces and then expected us to live with it. You expected to get away with it too. But you didn’t. You claimed that the guilt made you turn yourself in. I don’t believe that. I believe your mother turned you in after you dumped the car.

To this day, I don’t understand why you didn’t stop. If you had stopped, gotten out of that car and tried to help, everything would be different. You would be home with your wife and daughters instead of spending 15 years in prison. But you didn’t stop. You didn’t stop because you were drunk. You had been “bar hopping” that night. You had been cut off and kicked out of the bars you went to. Then you got in the car intoxicated and killed my brother and ruined Cree’s body. You were also driving without a license because it had been revoked — you were already on probation for prior offenses, which included grand theft auto, domestic assault, multiple DUIs and assault against a police officer. Your arrest record dates back to 2003. Yet, you broke the law again and decided to drink and drive. Now, you have eight more years of prison left and another 15 years of probation. Let’s not forget you’ll never get your license again. But, despite all of the consequences, I don’t think it will stop you. It didn’t stop you from getting drunk and behind the wheel. My brother was only 20 years old when you killed him. He had his whole life ahead of him, and you took that away. Now, in a little more than a week, I am going to be 21 years old. I’ll have surpassed him in life, and that terrifies me because he can’t be here to show me the way. He can't teach me how to better myself. He can't show me how to be goofy and fun without caring what anyone thinks of him.

I want you to understand something, A.T. I don’t hate you. But I certainly don’t forgive. I don’t think I ever will. But despite all the despair, pain and torture you have inflicted upon my family and friends, you also brought some good. Cree, after recovering from numerous surgeries and a wired-shut jaw, is able to walk and talk again. She still lives in chronic pain, but she is happy. She has a baby girl now. Her name is Aubrey, and she’s a little more than 2 years old. She’s created a good life for herself after the serious injuries you bestowed upon her. And Erik, well if he hadn’t died, he wouldn’t have saved one of the most incredible men in the world. Because Erik was an organ donor, the state of Florida witnessed the first triple-organ transplant. And without you, that wouldn’t have happened. Without you, my family and I wouldn’t have been lucky enough to meet the man who received Erik’s liver, pancreas and kidney. Louie, the organ recipient, and his partner, Stan, have become two of the most important people in my life. My brother saved Louie’s life, and that’s special. Every day when I see or speak to Louie, I get to remember that Erik died a hero. He continued to change someone’s life even after death, and that is remarkable.

So I’ll repeat myself to conclude this letter. I don’t hate you, but I don’t forgive you. Yes, there are good things that have come out of my brother’s death: inspiration, happiness and love. But that doesn’t detract from the pain and the grief I continue to feel every second of every day. Unfortunately, I know it will never go away. Time will help me learn to live with this pain, but I can never overcome it. You took my brother away from me. I miss him every day. My love for him will never dissipate because I know he is here with me. Whether he shows himself in the form of a hawk or in the stars in the sky, Erik will continue to guide me through my life. That is the one thing you can’t take away from me. I won’t let you take that away from me. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not in 50 years. Erik will always be my big brother, my guiding light, my inspiration and my reason to live.

Sincerely yours,

Julie Nicoletti