Telling her story
It’s been more than a decade since Carol Levin’s son Todd was killed in a drunken driving car wreck, but she remembers it like it happened yesterday. “It’s exactly as terrible as you think it is,” said Levin, who lives in Houston. “I went into shock. I couldn’t even think. I had to figure out who I was, what I wanted to do. Todd and I were best friends. He wasn’t just my son, he was just everything. We spent a lot of time together, and I felt lost without him.”
The wreck that killed Levin’s son in 2006, when a drunken driver ran a red light and smashed into the side of his vehicle, shook her world. Todd was killed instantly, and his girlfriend, Ralynn Healey, died on the way to the hospital.
To put her life back together, she sought support from people who were in similar situations. Levin, who is 69, turned to Mothers Against Drunk Driving, the national organization that was founded in the 1980s by a mother whose daughter was killed by a drunken driver.
She didn’t know that within a few years she would be at the forefront of a state legislative movement.
The organization’s members lobby to reduce drunken driving incidents through legislation as well as share personal stories with elementary and high school students and organize fundraisers that raise money and awareness about the dangers of drunken driving. MADD’s Southeast Texas chapter provided a refuge for Levin.
As a teacher and the owner of a tutoring company, Levin was comfortable talking to kids, and the organization gave her a chance to share what happened to her family with hundreds of students.
When she delivers her talks, which recount the horror of the day she learned her son had been killed, Levin said she feels most effective. The way students who have experienced similar tragedies respond to her after she delivers a talk makes her feel like she’s making a difference.
“The kids come up to me and hug me,” she said. “I was at a health fair, and a girl came up to me and said, ‘My mom picks me up every day drunk.’ She was 15. I can really empathize with what these kids are going through. It’s real, and it can be graphic.”
Kendall Collette, volunteer coordinator for MADD Southeast Texas, taps into Levin’s empathy when she’s looking for people to speak to students. Since Collette began at MADD a little more than three years ago, she said that Levin has been one of the organization’s go-to volunteers because of the way she connects with children.
Her passion and personal story help students to trust her, Collette said.
“I remember speaking in front of a classroom, not even a full assembly, and a young girl approached us and told us her dad was killed in a drunk driving accident,” Collette said. “And Carol just asked if she could give her a hug. People just feel comfortable with her. When a young person opens up like that, it can be very powerful.”
On the legislative side, Levin said she wanted to channel the loss she felt when her son was killed into initiatives that could make a difference and save lives.
“I became very involved, and they asked me to be legislative chair,” she said. “And I said, ‘Oh, my gosh, that’s quite an honor,’ but I still had to learn how it works. I wanted to save lives, so it was worth it. This is how I wanted to use my grief.”
In the 10 counties MADD Southeast Texas served in 2015, there were 179 alcohol-related fatalities involving drivers with a blood-alcohol level of .08 or higher, according to the organization. MADD Southeast Texas served more than 4,960 victims and survivors of drunken driving that year.
Harris County is the drunken driving capital of the United States based on the number of alcoholrelated fatalities, according to data provided by MADD.
The first — and biggest — project that Levin tackled as legislative chair of MADD Southeast Texas was a bill that would see devices installed on the vehicles of drivers convicted of driving under the influence in Texas. The devices, called ignition interlocks, prevent vehicles from starting if the driver’s blood-alcohol content is above a pre-set limit. The organization had previously found that the devices stopped 2.3 million drunken driving attempts since 2006 in states where they were required, Levin said, and members of MADD wanted that law in Texas.
For someone without any background in government or politics, however, getting a bill passed was a huge learning curve, Levin said. Potential legislation can be stopped without warning, and the process to even get a bill in front of lawmakers is complex, Levin said.
“It’s very frustrating, and it’s very political, but it shouldn’t be,” she said. “It can be very dirty. I’ve learned the obvious isn’t the obvious, and I was clueless about legislation, but I’ve learned so much it’s unbelievable.”
John McNamee, regional executive for MADD Southeast, agreed. McNamee started with MADD in 2010, and he said that the work to get a bill signed into law is more difficult than most people imagine. But Levin, with her engaging personality and ability to use her personal tragedy to get her point across, was able to overcome the obstacles.
Lawmakers and their staffs were drawn to Levin’s story, and McNamee recalled when they were invited to a lunch with legislators after Levin and he had lobbied for their bill.
“We were just talking about Houston and the area, and a lot of times during the session, congressmen’s staffs, they’ll bring in lunch,” he said. “And they thought enough of Levin to invite us to have some barbecue with them. It goes to the point that she’s a nice person and has the passion to get this kind of work done.”
Finally, in 2015, Levin and MADD’s work paid off. Texas joined more than 20 other states that had interlock-ignition bills in place at the time. Now, 22 states that don’t have interlock-ignition laws remain, but Levin is confident her work can be replicated nationwide.
“It took us almost 10 years,” she said. “I can’t believe it finally happened. It was euphoric. I felt like I could fly. It was like … I finally have done something for him and all the others who have lost children. I just want to keep people safe.”