Janet Romaker was among the first people at the scene of the fatal I-280 crash a year ago yesterday. These are some of her memories of that evening.

You wonder about the timing.

Perhaps one more hug at the door. One more round of "Good-bye, Happy New Year!" One more bathroom break.

A moment, a second. Something. Anything. To have kept the family out of harm's way

A year ago last night, police scanners crackled in the newsroom. It was shortly before 11 p.m. Emergency crews were being called to the scene of a crash on I-280. All too quickly, it was all too clear that this could be bad.

And it was.

A drunk driver, clipping along I-280 the wrong way, had plowed into an oncoming van near the Manhattan Boulevard overpass. Initial information: At least a couple of people had been killed. Shortly afterward, a police officer confirmed the grim reality: Five members of a Maryland family were dead.

Bethany Griffin, 36; Jordan Griffin, 10; Lacie Burkman, 7; Haley Burkman, 10; and Vadie Griffin, 8 weeks.

The driver of the van, Danny Griffin, Jr., 36, and his daughter, Sydney Griffin, 8, were seriously injured and another passenger, Beau Burkman, 8, had minor injuries.

With a blood-alcohol content more than twice the legal limit and marijuana in his system at almost three times the level of impairment, 24-year-old Michael Gagnon drove the wrong way on I-280 for almost five miles before ramming into the Griffins' van.

The van looked like a bomb had gone off inside.

The hulking pickup truck appeared relatively unscathed by comparison. Its windshield was cracked as though it had been hit by a large stone.

In June, Gagnon, of Adrian was sentenced to 43 years in prison for causing the crash.

When the wreck occurred, the Griffins were heading home to Parkville, Md., after spending several days in Michigan where they celebrated the holiday with relatives.

Christmas gifts, some still in shiny bags, were strewn across the grass alongside I-280 after the crash. In places on the ground was kids' clothing. A baby rattle in one spot, a stuffed animal in another.

Nearby, a fuzzy pink baby blanket, with the smooth, satiny edge just right for rubbing against a nose at nap time, drifted from an infant carrier.

That infant seat, which likely cradled the baby just hours earlier, sat there on the pavement, empty. Very, very empty. Long after the crash, someone moved it closer to the van.

At some point, more firefighters arrived to assist with whatever they could.

They fiddled with something under the crumpled hood, and the tail light on the family's van, which had glowed eerily red near the covered bodies, finally was extinguished.

Snow started to fall, draping the dark-as-death night in winter white.

Contact Janet Romaker at:

jromaker@theblade.com

or 419-724-6006.

First Published December 31, 2008, 1:10 p.m.