Quality of Life

Jonathan Mirra's last ride ended at 12:37 PM on a Tuesday in early February in a small town in rural Illinois. Unlike the hot rods and junkers Jonathan had driven, this last conveyance was a silver-grey hearse, kept in gleaming readiness for its solemn duty. The six young men who had been selected to act as pallbearers had carefully placed the casket into position above the grave while the long line of cars carrying mourners still wound through the narrow lanes of the small and neatly kept cemetery.

A couple of benches and several folding chairs had been set up beneath the green awning which sheltered the gravesite, so the immediate family and Al Bodine could sit in out of the freezing drizzle. Mats of AstroTurf covered the mud left by the drum heater which had thawed the frozen ground enough to allow the oblong pit to be opened. The rest of the mourners gathered in cold murmurings and silences to hear the Baptist minister's final words to dedicate the passage of a 17-year-old from their midst.

Jonathan Mirra had experienced much in his short lifetime. He'd been through the heartbreak of a poor relationship with his stepfather, and had been through several of society's responses to a youth out of control. He'd been interviewed and examined by child psychiatrists, after he had been threatened and finally abandoned emotionally by his newest parent. It hadn't helped.

He tried earning acceptance from his peers by joining the drug scene, experimenting with pot, LSD, fentanyl, and alcohol. His new habits were expensive, so crime became a part of his life, as well. He was brought to court on charges of truancy, theft and burglary. Since he'd already made a bad reputation for himself through his aggressive behavior in school, he was remanded to attend a rehabilitation program at a youth facility some 100 miles from his home.

Like most of the other 75 youths who attended the reformatory school, Jonathan arrived with little more than the clothes on his back and a chip on his shoulder. He didn't like being told what he could and could not do, didn't like being told that he was responsible not only for himself but also for the other members of his "group", didn't like being told how to wear his hair and how often to bathe, when to go to bed, and where he could be allowed to smoke an occasional cigarette. He didn't like any of that, but he realized that he must learn to work within the system if he was to earn his release from the program anytime soon.

It was not long before the youngster became the acknowledged favorite of Al Bodine, the Group Leader or staff-in-charge of Jonathan's group.

There were twelve juveniles who made up the group, but only Jonathan could be seen almost constantly in the company of Al. Jonathan was with him whenever he didn't have to be elsewhere, such as in the classroom for the mandatory six hours of school work, or else on one of the many work details that might involve his group. Jonathan did what he had to do with his peers, but otherwise hung out with Al on a steady basis; he would be given special permission to go off grounds to movies or fishing, or even to spend the weekend at Al's spartan two-bedroom apartment.

Before long, the question of what plans should be made for aftercare came up whenever Jonathan's progress was reviewed at the weekly staff meetings.

Of course, it was noted that Jonathan could be seen to pout whenever he didn't get his own way, and he tended to brag to the other boys about his past experiences with drugs. At the same time, it was reported that Jonathan had not once had a direct authority problem with any member of the staff, and he could be counted on to help cheer up the other boys while they were going through some tough times of their own. Jonathan was rapidly working his way through the pre-release requirements, and soon could look forward to going home.

The only problem was, he didn't want to go home.

Jonathan's mother had made it a point to visit him on a regular basis. She came to the center every visitors' day come without exception. Jonathan's stepfather, however, had made no attempt to maintain contact of any kind with him. He refused to write, visit, or even answer telephone calls.

Staff who were apprised of the situation became concerned that sending Jonathan back to that home structure might negate all the progress Jonathan had made. It even seemed likely that further criminal activities would be a definite part of his future unless an alternative living arrangement could be found.

That's where his friendship with Al Bodine came in.

It wasn't long before Al was thinking in terms of obtaining legal guardianship for the bright youngster. After all, who could be a better parent than a professional who worked with juvenile delinquents every day? Al felt certain that he could provide the stability that Jonathan needed, as well as the love, and not many months had passed before Jonathan's mother agreed.

The arrangement worked beautifully. Jonathan continued to attend classes at the center throughout the summer months, in order to have sufficient credits to enroll at the local public high school as a senior when classes resumed in the fall. He had permission to drive the battered old Plymouth whenever Al was at work, as long as he brought it back on time and in reasonable condition (not completely out of gas). The two went on weekend camp-outs and fishing trips, in general "batching it" together pretty well.

A sour note or two was sounded whenever Al made what Jonathan considered to be an arbitrary demand, but he followed the rules without any backtalk, for the most part. Al could be a tough taskmaster, and hard to please, but he spoke of Jonathan in glowing terms throughout the summer months.

Once the fall semester started, Jonathan was out among his peers in the real world, no longer in the more controlled setting of the reformatory all day. He made first string on the basketball team, and was soon one of the most popular boys at school. His personality and rugged good looks made him attractive to both sexes, and he was admired by several girls in his class.

One in particular caught his eye -- Melissa Devries. He had first met her in English class, and soon was walking her through the halls, carrying her books, asking her for dates. Before long, the two were spending all of their time together; if they weren't together, they were keeping the phones busy.

Al didn't like it.

Still hung up on "guarding" the youth he had helped to rehabilitate, Al felt his authority was being eroded by the young couple's relationship. Jonathan no longer listened very attentively to Al's instructions; he seldom stayed home when Al wasn't there. He couldn't be counted on to do his chores. All of his attention was focused on Melissa.

Threats and punishments didn't work, so Al brought Jonathan back to the Center for some "reminders" of what life would be like if Jonathan didn't obey house rules. But, even that didn't separate the couple. If anything, it made them even more determined to spend all of their time together. It became an "us against him" situation.

Al went so far as to contact Melissa's parents one night when Jonathan got home an hour late. He had explained to Al that Melissa had worked through supper and wanted to grab a quick burger after the movie got out. That wasn't good enough for Al. He complained bitterly to the Devries about their daughter's irresponsible behavior, and asked their help in splitting the couple apart .

To his chagrin, the Devries didn't see things his way. Melissa's parents told Al they felt he was overreacting. The two weren't together enough to negatively influence their schoolwork; both young people were Honor Roll students, and actively participated in extracurricular programs. Melissa was a cheerleader and member of the Student Senate, as well as playing the lead in the school musical. They couldn't be spending too much time together. Besides, as they explained, Melissa was the youngest of three daughters, so the Devries had been through "first love" before, and didn't find it alarming.

Al did.

He was not content to allow Jonathan to continue his relationship with Melissa. He took more drastic measures, going so far as to start physically beating Jonathan.

When even that failed, Al informed Jonathan that he would be returned to his mother's home.

Faced with the prospect of a 100-mile separation, Jonathan and Melissa made a tragic decision. They met one cold, grey morning, wrote notes that spoke of love and asked forgiveness, then held each other close after fitting a hose from the tailpipe of the running car through a narrow gap in the window. Carbon monoxide filled the car as their favorite music played softly, comforting them. They fell asleep in each other's arms.

Their last request -- to be buried together.

Their graves are separated by 100 miles.