Accident victim keeps smile on his face
Jeff Jones walks with a noticeable limp. He forgets things on occasion. And he can never go back to his job as a state police trooper, one that he loved dearly. But of all the muscles that were affected when the Elizabeth resident was hit by a drunken driver four years ago, he hasn’t forgotten how to use the ones on his face.
“I lost a lot of things, but one thing I didn’t lose was these muscles,” he said, pointing to his cheeks. “I can smile.”
The 30-year-old does smile more often than not, as he lets loose with a laugh that would make anyone chuckle. But the past four years have been filled with difficulties that would make many wonder how he can be so amiable, knowing that what he wanted to do in his life – uphold the law – was taken from him when a drunken driver hit him while he rode his motorcycle to work at the Uniontown barracks June 19, 2000, along Route 51 in Perryopolis.
Jones spent nearly six months between hospitals and rehabilitation centers. He learned how to do everything for a second time, a result of the serious brain injury he sustained. He remains partially paralyzed on his left side, and walks with a stiff left leg.
Now, a year after the man who hit him was tried and sentenced, Jones, his mother, Irene Jones, and sister, Dawn Tomich, handle life with a grain of salt and a shaker of thanks.
In the four years since her brother’s accident, Tomich said, all the family has said countless “thank yous” to the people who have supported their family, but they still worry that they’ve forgotten someone. Prayer chains have been organized across the country, a grade school in New Jersey “adopted” Jones and sent him cards, and even people that Jones arrested sent him letters.
One man he cited for not wearing a seat belt sent a card after his accident. In it, he said that Jones’ accident affected his life, as well.
“Our lives have been touched by everyone through this whole thing,” Tomich said.
“Everyone was so good to us,” Jones agreed.
In April, Jones, his mother and his sister went to a federal prison in Moundsville, W.Va., to talk to a group of prisoners about the realities of driving drunk. The family said the trip was both therapeutic and difficult.
When Jones, with his stiff leg, walked in, many of the inmates were moved to tears. And at the end, all of the inmates who sat through the program as part of their 12-step recovery program shook hands with the family.
Waiting
Irene Jones and Tomich remember the first time they heard Jeff Jones talk after the accident. It was in August, two months after he’d come out of his coma, but with no progress toward speech. A nurse asked Jones if he wanted some iced tea. She left, and it took a while for her to come back.
When she did, she handed Jones his iced tea, and he looked at her, deadpan, and said, “It’s about time.”
At the time, Irene Jones said, she cried, overcome with emotion. Years removed, and with the reason that time provides, she, her son and Tomich all laugh, a familiar sound in their home.
It was obvious that through his ordeal, the sense of humor they had known and cherished had not waned, Mrs. Jones said.
They make light of Jeff’s injuries, and now laugh at the varied prognoses they heard when he was in the hospital. One doctor, they said, told them that Jones would be lucky “to put stamps on an envelope in a controlled environment,” Mrs. Jones said.
That statement earned Jones the nickname “Sticker Boy.”
A month after he got home from the hospital, at Christmas, he found his family had maintained the humor of his nickname in a very special stocking stuffer: a sticker book.
He made good use of it – putting the stickers in the lines helped improve his dexterity.
Only once during two hours of talking about one of the most difficult times for the family did someone cry: Tomich. She freely admits that she was the strong one during the ordeal. While her mother and father cried, she comforted them. And then she went home and cried to her husband.
On the eighth day that Jones was in a coma, one doctor told the family they should consider pulling the plug and donating his organs.
Distraught and stressed over the possibility of losing Jones, the family spent a long night. It was on the ninth day that they got what they were hoping for: Jones opened his eyes just a little.
That day, so joy-filled, was the toughest for Tomich. She had been holding so much together for her family, and never got to react to things as they happened. Eyes shut, she recalled being outside, smoking, when she saw her father hold a sign to the window.
“Get up here,” it said.
Four-and-a-half years later, the memory of her brother opening his eyes stays with her, as tears roll down her cheeks.
“No crying. We don’t cry, we laugh,” her mother joked.
But the months after Jones first opened his eyes were trying.
Doctors told the family that Jones would have no short-term memory, unable to recall if he’d eaten breakfast and certainly incapable of making it for himself.
After Jones came home from an Erie rehabilitation center, the last facility he was in, Mrs. Jones said she planned on retiring from work to care for him. But one day, as she sat on the couch of their home and quietly watched her son cook his own breakfast that morning, her husband, Jim, came over to her.
“He said, ‘I hope you didn’t tell them you’re retiring. He’s going to be fine,'” she said.
She plans now to retire in January.
Looking for justice
Mrs. Jones and Tomich still have a tough time talking about the rigors of the court case to prosecute Donald Earl Miller, the Fayette City man who pulled his vehicle out in front of Jones’ motorcycle and then left the scene of the accident on Route 51 at Barney Road.
Miller pleaded guilty to lesser offenses before a jury ultimately convicted him. When it came time for sentencing, Miller withdrew his plea because the judge was going to sentence him to the mandatory jail time for leaving the scene of the accident.
Mrs. Jones, Tomich, and Jeff Jones’ father, Jim, smarted over the plea withdrawal. They wanted Miller to “be a man” and take the punishment. To this day, because of the withdrawn plea, Mrs. Jones said she has difficulty forgiving Miller for hitting her son.
Jeff Jones, however, said Miller “did nothing to me that I need to worry about.”
The battle cries of three years of courtroom maneuvering also resonate with the Jones family.
After Miller withdrew his plea, his attorney successfully petitioned a county judge to drop some of the charges. Prosecutors appealed, and the charges eventually were reinstated.
Finally, last October, the case went to trial. Miller was convicted of several counts and ultimately was sentenced to spend 90 days in jail for leaving the scene of the accident.
“Miller got 90 days, but I was in prison for six months,” Mrs. Jones said of the ordeal with her son.
Life now
Jones said his life has changed dramatically since the accident. And while the physical changes are more evident, he also is different spiritually. He said he has become more religious, believing wholeheartedly that God is responsible for his progress.
“God got so tired of hearing Jeffrey Jones that he said, ‘Heal this boy. I gotta get some sleep,'” his mother said jokingly.
Jones also said he was less than humble four years ago.
“I was stuck up and ignorant. … I don’t want to act that way anymore, so I’m very grateful for the change,” he said.
Since the accident, Jones said, he has become both more giving and more forgiving. He also has become incredibly thankful for his family, without whom he said he “would have been lost by now.”
He now lives on his own, drives himself and spends time with his dog, Trooper.
After the accident, doctors performed blood transfusions on Jones. Their hope was that the transfusions would bring additional blood to his brain and improve its function. Now, years later, he is proud that he has started to donate blood again, a small way to pay back what was given to him.
He also goes to a gym three times a week, working out to strengthen his body. He once considered running an evil from his time in the state police academy. He wanted nothing more than to miss the daily training runs, but now he said he would “give everything” to be able to run again.
In addition to his activities, he also has started volunteering with different organizations. And last year, before prom time, he gave a speech to a group of high school students.
“I went there to show them what could happen to you,” he said.
His speech had an impact. One student who lost a relative in a drunken-driving accident shed tears during the talk, and afterward, other students told Jones that they truly listened to what he had to say.
“It might be fun for the kids, but look at what happened,” Jones said, motioning toward his legs. “It sucks to be an example, but I’d give anything to show people, ‘Use your head before you do something stupid.'”
Last year, Jones had surgery on his leg with the hope that he might be able to walk better. That surgery was not successful, and his movement remains restricted.
“I used to be able to run a mile in 5 minutes. Now, I’d be lucky to walk a mile in five hours,” he said.
But his mother said acupuncture was a great help in lifting the fog that made things difficult to remember.
The family again experienced difficult times in January. Three months after Miller was convicted for drunkenly injuring his son, Jim Jones died of a heart attack. But even then, Jones, his mother and sister agree that it was Jim Jones’ time. He lived with constant guilt that he gave his son money to help finance the purchase of the motorcycle he was riding to work that night.
And when he saw his only son walk, one leg stiff, moving slowly, it was not uncommon to see Jim Jones cry.
“To this day, I think he took (the accident) personally,” Jeff Jones said.
But Jones and his mother remain positive, joking through any hardship. Nothing, including his serious injuries and daily battles, are off limits for ribbing. And Tomich is never far behind with a quip of her own. She and Jones banter like most siblings do.
“Mom and I are great. We have a lot of people who laugh with us,” Jones said.
Without missing a beat, he adds, “Dawn just has a lot of people who laugh at her.”
A brief exchange of words and more smiles follow.
And while Jones isn’t certain what he wants to do in the future, he and his family agree that the same God who spared his life in a devastating accident will show them eventually where his life’s work lies.
“We all say that God closed a door (after the accident). Now, we’re waiting for him to open up a window and show us where Jeffrey is going with his life,” Mrs. Jones said, smiling.