Wednesday, May 09, 2007

A tragic story of lives lost to a drunk illegal alien in GA

This comes to us by way of Bill Cameron from The Chapel Hill Blog via a comment posted by Stacy Malegni. We appreciate her sharing her tragic story and hope many people share in her sorrow and understand the damage being done EVERY DAY to this country.

We need to keep telling these sad stories over and over until somehow our politicians understand the cost of illegal immigration to Americans. We have lost more people to illegal aliens IN OUR OWN country than soldiers who have died in Iraq since 9/11. Why does the media ignore this? The elites running our country live their lives isolated from regular Americans and are oblivious to our suffering.

Many pro-illegal alien supporters argue that the fact that this 19 year old man was an illegal alien is irrelevant to the tragic accident. I say to them - it is VERY relevant because, as the Freedom Folks say every week, if this dirtbag had not been here, this family would still be around. It's 100% PREVENTABLE.

May You Walk In My Shoes, if Only for a Few Moments...
In the Hopes that it Will Stick with You, for Years to Come

Stacey Malegni
July 21, 2006


It has been one year, eight months, and fourteen days, since my heart has been broken. It is not a crack, but a hole so deep and so wide that I feel my soul wavering on the edge. No one else knows, but this is how I feel on the inside. The crying is done for a while, now it’s endless thoughts that will come forward and invade my wounded mind. If I were turned inside out, everyone would be able to see exactly how ugly death has made me. When will this misery I feel end? I fear never.

I recall the day Dominic entered my life. Every woman’s dream...a son to hold, nurture and protect. (Little did I know the protection part would be out of my control). He would of course grow into an extraordinary boy. The love within him was unlike anyone I have ever known, he did so with out for thought; so gentle, real and true. I felt it, and endeared him each valuable day we were given.

My thoughts are often of my family on that fateful day. My mother in law, Ann, is driving, and her precious cargo is in the rear. She is unaware of the careless driver following from behind. He is still absorbed with alcohol from his sleepless night before and talking to his friend beside him. His drunken eyes struggling to see the road in front, as he tries to make the turn to the left. Try as he might, he can not do it. Maintaining control of the car isn’t with in him.

The front tires are split while pieces of cement are thrown, as the car first impacts the median. He is now air born, and then sent into the side of Ann along with her precious cargo. The driver is three times over the legal limit for the consumption of alcohol. Perhaps you might wonder how he even made it into the car that day, or why his friend trusted him to do so.

I picture my son's blood, and broken bones, and his beautiful face left perfectly in tact. I feel, perhaps it was my chance to see his angelic face one last time before I said goodbye. At least I was given that. He is still trapped in his car seat. The very seat that held him safely, now defenseless against this dreadful car. His spider man shoes he loved so much are still on his feet, and is still clutching a store bag and toys. I want desperately to take his hand and tell him how much I love him, as his still, little body sits there.

But, it is another who runs to him and puts her kind hand on his forehead. Sadly, there is nothing she can do. The stranger kneels down and cries, because she’s realized the boy she wanted desperately to help is gone.

Perhaps there is hope. Maybe God took him, before the back of his head was laid open, with the weapon of the vehicles deadly side view mirror. I am forever tortured with the thoughts of Dominic’s lifeless body as he lies on the cold steel table. The white towel, soaked in his blood, covering the deadly wounds around the back of his sweet head.

With this, it is apparent why it was just our daughter, the policeman walked to our door that day. There will be no more Birthdays for him; he had just turned 5 and is now forever frozen in time.

As for my Mother in law, the crash was so violent, that her seat belt has cut into her delicate body. It will take three weeks and 5 surgeries, but to no avail. We are soon forced to turn off life support and watch in agony, as her misery finally comes to an end.

This story could have easily have been yours or someone close to you. But, luckily for you, it was not.

There is not a day that goes by that I don’t picture the violence of this accident. In fact, I suppose I torture myself, playing it over and over, again and again in my mind. I often wonder why I do this to myself. Do I think it will suddenly turn out differently? Is it because I was not there to bear witness? I must not have thought the worst could possibly happen to me, to us, and to our family. Because, no one ever does.

It is so easy, as I sit strapped in my own seat, day after day, to put myself in their position on that terrible afternoon. I ask you to do the same when you sit inside the safety of your own car.

It is easy, if you try, to see them; as they were, what became of them, and how it has affected my family’s life. A husband living each painful day without his only son, a daughter playing without her brother. And I looking on, at this family, in the face of tragedy. A family that has been, and forever will be changed.

I’d like for you to know, it is for my beautiful son that I am no longer afraid of dying, as often many people are. I secretly long for that day to come in order to see his beautiful face once more. For there is not one day that goes by, that I don’t fight the tears and the deafening agony of my heart, overflowing into my head.

I try extremely hard not to let it consume me, as it is a constant struggle for me to feel any happiness at all. What’s worse, is that this is how I am to live the rest of my life....without him...a life without my son.

Dominic Malegni died on a busy Atlanta road, at 2 O’clock in the afternoon on Sunday, November 7th, 2004. He was hit by a young man of just 19, Alejandro Moreno, an illegal immigrant from Mexico, ironically with the intentions of having a better life. He is now serving out his 20 year sentence in a federal penitentiary.

Not only is Alejandro in jail because of poor judgment and failed guidance . . . my son and mother in law died a horrible death that certainly could have been prevented.

Before you turn away from this story, think about being an ambassador for this innocent child. Tell others of him. Take with you his story into your heart and think of others by choosing not to drink and drive. Or, by convincing someone else to do the same.

I am putting the memory of my son, Dominic, in your hands. It is my hope, that with you, his name will continue to live on and perhaps even save a life.


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