An Illegal Immigrant Killed My Soulmate

It was a normal Tuesday and I was on my way home from work when my husband Scott called me to say he was in town to pick up his prescriptions. However, one wasn't ready and he wanted me to pick it up on my way home from work.

We talked for a while on the phone and then I told him I was on Highway 285 coming up the hill and would see him shortly at home.

Highway 285 is a curvy mountain highway and one of the most dangerous in Colorado. There are so many accidents that you can buy a bumper sticker saying: "I drove Highway 285 and survived." This is the only road to our house, so we drive it daily.

I picked up his prescription and as I was heading out of town on Highway 285, a sign said: "Road Closed Ahead Accident Take Detour." I said to myself: "Not another idiot who doesn't know how to drive."

I called my husband to tell him I would be late since the detour would take at least two hours. He didn't answer his phone, so I assumed he must be in the hot tub.

As I drove the detour, I continued to call him, but the phone just rang and rang. I became concerned. It wasn't like him to not answer his phone, and it had been too long to still be in the hot tub. I started to worry he might be in the accident.

I finally made it to our neighborhood. I had a weird feeling that something wasn't right. As I drove up the driveway and opened the garage door, Scott's truck wasn't there.

I instantly knew he was in the accident. I felt sick to my stomach. There was no way he wouldn't be home before me.

I went into the house and opened my laptop to track his phone. I saw it pinging near the accident site.

I got in my car and drove that way. It had been two and a half hours since we last spoke, and I wondered why I hadn't received any word as to what had happened to him.

As I approached the accident site, it was impossible to get close because of all the vehicles stuck on the road. I would have to park my car and walk quite a distance to see anything, so I turned around and went home.

I could see two police cars in my driveway. I knew immediately he was dead.

I rolled down my window as I approached the police cars. I looked at the two people standing there and said: "He's dead, isn't he?" They said: "Please park your car." I repeated myself and they said again: "Please park your car."

I pulled into the garage, turned off the engine, got out of my car, and approached them.

One was a police officer and the other was a victim's advocate. They explained to me that Scott was killed instantly in the truck crash and that the driver was arrested for vehicular homicide.

They also said they noticed I had been calling and calling him, so they thought they had better get over here to tell me what had happened.

I thought it odd that they were just now notifying me, since the accident happened at 5:00 p.m. and it was already 9:30 p.m. Why did it take them so long to notify me? That made me angry.

They wanted to know if I had anyone I could call to come over for the night and I said no. My daughter lives in Hawaii and it was 9:30 p.m so I didn't want to bother any of my friends.

Then they asked if I would be OK by myself or if I wanted Kim, the victim's advocate, to stay. I said no, I was fine and wanted to be alone. They gave me their business cards and said to call tomorrow with any questions, that they would be in touch, and left.

I didn't know what to think or feel at that moment. After the police and victim's advocate left, I went into the house and screamed and screamed and screamed.

I was hysterical. I was numb. I felt alone and scared. My Scotty was gone and there was nothing I could do to change that. My whole world changed in an instant.

How could this have happened? My husband, a professional truck driver himself, one of the safest truck drivers on the road, was killed by a rogue truck driver. How ironic was that?

We owned a bulk water hauling company for 15 years with no accidents. Not one traffic ticket. Nothing. My husband was careful about who he hired to drive our trucks since he knew the dangers, especially one loaded with water in the mountains.

And now a trucking company and a truck driver who put profit before lives killed my husband.

I called my daughter and when she answered the telephone, I hysterically screamed: "Dad is dead!" I felt so bad about how I delivered the message to her, but I couldn't help myself. I was angry, I was scared, and I felt so lonely.

I called my friend Rona but her phone was already on silent for the night. I left her a hysterical message and hung up.

I paced the floors for a few hours crying and screaming at the top of my lungs. I finally went to sleep. The next morning my friend Rona called and came right over. She stayed with me for the next two days until my daughter was able to fly over from Hawaii.

The next 10 days were agonizing for me and my daughter. My husband, her father, lay alone in a cold morgue all by himself and we couldn't even go to see him.

They needed to do an autopsy and we had to wait to hold his hand, which is all we could see or do. His head was crushed in the accident and they advised us not to see him in that condition.

Thus, we held his hand and hugged his body, but never got to see his face.

It felt like my whole world had ended right then and there.

Scott and I met when I was 17, and we had been together for 46 years. He was my soulmate, and I do not know life without him. We were best friends and we did everything together.

We got heavy into rock climbing in our twenties, and put up first ascents, putting us in guide books, and even featuring us in Climbing Magazine for a first ascent we did in Mexico.

We backpacked together. We mountain biked together. We skied together. We raised a daughter together. We built a business and sold it together. We played with and enjoyed our grandchildren together. And we had just made our retirement plans together.

But now, I was alone and didn't have my partner, my soulmate of 46 years. My daughter didn't have a father anymore. My grandchildren didn't have a grandfather anymore.

And my husband did not have a life to live anymore because Monique Trucking, LLC—a company with a history of safety violations—chose to hire someone who did not belong behind the wheel of a big rig hauling a dangerous load on our highways.

Ignacio Cruz Mendoza, an illegal immigrant who cannot even speak English and does not have the proper commercial driver's license (CDL), was hired to haul a load of heavy steel pipes across our country's dangerous mountain roads.

As he drove on Highway 285, he lost control of the truck and its speed, sending it screaming at 80 miles an hour on a 45-mile-an-hour highway.

Mendoza hit the car in front of him, causing him to jackknife, which in turn caused his entire load of heavy steel pipes to land on my husband's truck, crushing him and killing him instantly.

At first, I was grateful that the District Attorney (DA) did the right thing and charged Mendoza with vehicular homicide. However, several days later they dropped the charges to a misdemeanor, which only carries a one-year prison sentence.

How could this have happened?

And on top of it all, the DA was not going to charge the trucking company with any violations. This made it easy for Mendoza and his attorney, so he pleaded guilty to spare himself, so no trial was necessary.

It was easier for the DA to be soft on crime than to do the leg work necessary to get the conviction that was justice for all and the right thing to do.

I held several meetings with the DA and his staff to discuss their reasons for not prosecuting Mendoza for vehicular homicide and why they were not going after the trucking company, to no satisfaction. Everything they told me was just excuses.

My lawyer told me to get permission from the judge to bring the media into the courtroom on sentencing day to hold the DA responsible for the lack of justice, which I gladly did, and they were not happy.

On sentencing day, I got to look Mendoza in the eye for the first time.

I and two other victims gave our victim speeches: My daughter and my husband's brother, who is also a professional truck driver and talked about Mendoza's responsibility for the safety of others and his lack of professionalism.

We all said in our speeches how we felt let down by the DA and that justice was not served. The judge scolded the DA for not bringing stiffer charges against the defendant and wanted to know why.

The judge was angry because she said Mendoza deserved more time than a year, but as the DA only charged him with a misdemeanor, her hands were tied.

The media—NBC, ABC, CBS, and Fox News—were all there that day with their local news anchors, and they interviewed me after the sentencing hearing.

It was great to get the news coverage because that lit a fire under the DA's office, and they now have a different DA investigating the trucking company.

However, I have zero confidence in them achieving any significant justice for my husband since they already failed me once.

But the biggest culprit in this tragedy is the federal government.

Monique Trucking was issued 17 trucking violations by the federal government and they were never shut down. Had the federal government done its job, Monique Trucking would not have been in business and my husband would be alive today.

I totally blame the federal government for my husband's death.

Unless they start to do their job, my Scotty will not be the last person killed because of their lack of responsibility. As a taxpayer, I want answers and I want them to do their job.

The Federal Motor Carrier Safety Administration finally ordered Monique Trucking to cease operations under an Imminent Hazard Order in July 2024 and, after an investigation, concluded it was "egregiously noncompliant" with regulations, noting it had multiple roadside violations in the lead-up to the crash.

Since the sentencing hearing, I have been going through the grieving process and trying to rebuild my life. The life I knew is gone along with my husband.

I would like to bring some positive legal change to the trucking industry and the federal government's responsibility for the safety of our roads if I can.

I expressed this sentiment when interviewed by the media, and a gentleman by the name of Shannon Everett saw me on the news.

He started an organization called American Truckers United. He reached out to me asking if I wanted to join his cause, and that he would like to help with mine in Colorado and maybe get a grassroots effort going at the federal level to make real change.

The American Truckers United website states that they advocate for the unprecedented challenges that threaten the livelihoods of American truckers and the safety of our roads.

Over the past eight years, an alarming rise in fatal truck crashes coincides with the influx of unqualified, untrained, and unvetted drivers.

American Truckers United is focused on bringing state and hopefully federal legislation to stop these unsafe practices and bring dignity back to the trucking industry.

And they currently have a bill that is being brought to the Arkansas 94th General Assembly by Rep. Wayne Long to address these trucking industry concerns. With any luck, this bill will pass, paving the way for future legislation.

Helping Shannon with his cause and working towards moving legislation here in Colorado is currently my top goal along with shutting down Monique Trucking Company for good so they cannot reopen under a new name and a new DOT number.

I refuse to let my husband's death be in vain. I want the laws changed so qualified people drive the trucks on our roads and no other person must experience the hell I have been going through since I lost my best friend and soulmate.

I want Scotty to be remembered as a wonderful father and grandfather, and someone who worked hard to achieve his goals and lived and loved life to its fullest. He was my man who shaped my world and made life fun.

Deann Miller lost her husband, Scott in a Colorado truck crash in June 2024 caused by an undocumented migrant who did not have the right commercial driver's license, and who was hired by a now-defunct trucking company cited for multiple safety violations.

All views expressed are the author's own.

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