Some crashes don’t just take lives.
They leave behind silence that never lifts, questions no one wants to answer, and a kind of grief that refuses to stay quiet.

That night, Bernedine Spann wasn’t doing anything extraordinary.

She was driving with her children, moving through a familiar stretch of road, believing—like millions of parents do every day—that they would make it home safely. There was no warning. No sense of danger. No reason to think this would be the last time she would hear their voices in the car.

Inside the vehicle were three people.

Bernedine Spann, 32 years old.
Ja’Leah Spann, 13.
Jaxton Spann, just 7.

A mother. A teenage daughter. A little boy still learning how the world works.

They had no way of knowing that ahead of them, another car was coming straight toward them—driving the wrong way.

And the person behind the wheel was intoxicated.

The impact happened in seconds.

There was no time to react.
No chance to swerve.
No opportunity to escape the consequences of a decision they never made.

Bernedine and Ja’Leah died at the scene.

A mother and her daughter were taken from this world in the same instant, on the same road, because someone else chose to drive drunk.

Jaxton survived the initial crash.

He was rushed to the hospital, his small body fighting injuries far too heavy for a child to carry. Doctors worked. Machines hummed. Family members prayed for what felt like a miracle—that at least one child would be spared.

For days, hope clung to that possibility.

Then Jaxton died.

His father, James Spann, shared the news in a short message online—words that carried the weight of a world collapsing:

“Prayers, prayers, prayers as Jaxton Dontrez Spann transitions to be with his mom and sister.”

Three lives gone.

One family erased in a single night.

The driver accused of causing the crash was identified as 41-year-old Sherita Goddard, suspected of driving under the influence and traveling the wrong way when she collided with the Spann family’s vehicle. A passenger in her car—believed to be her daughter—was also injured.

They survived.

That fact alone has ignited outrage that refuses to quiet down.

At the time of reporting, it remained unclear whether Goddard would face criminal charges. And for the people who loved Bernedine, Ja’Leah, and Jaxton, that uncertainty feels like a second wound.

Shonda James, Bernedine’s best friend for over a decade, did not hide her anger.

“She needs to be held accountable to the fullest extent,” Shonda said. “She killed people. They did not have to die. I have no sympathy. I have no forgiveness for her at this moment.”

Her words quickly spread—and divided people.

Some argued that anger doesn’t bring justice.
Others said forgiveness is necessary for healing.
But many asked the question no one wanted to say out loud:

How do you talk about mercy when a drunk driver chose to get behind the wheel and killed a mother and two children?

Shonda didn’t stop there.

“It’s not just her,” she added. “How did anyone let her leave drunk? How did nobody stop her? And how do you drive intoxicated, with a child in your car, going the wrong way down the road?”

Those questions reach far beyond one person.

They reach into parties where keys aren’t taken away.
Into moments where friends stay silent instead of intervening.
Into a culture that calls these tragedies “accidents” instead of naming them for what they are—preventable choices.

Ja’Leah Spann was an eighth-grade student.
Jaxton Spann was in second grade.

Their school district confirmed counselors would be available for students and staff. Classmates had to learn about death far earlier than they should have. Teachers faced empty desks where laughter used to be.

At home, another child waited.

Bernedine’s son—who was not in the vehicle that night—lost his mother, his brother, and his sister all at once. According to the family’s GoFundMe, he is now learning how to live inside a loss most adults could never survive.

No courtroom can return bedtime routines.
No verdict can restore a mother’s voice.
No sentence can fill the silence of three missing lives.

But accountability matters.

This tragedy has reignited fierce debate about DUI laws, sentencing, and whether society is too forgiving when alcohol and driving intersect. Some demand harsher penalties. Others argue prevention and education are the answer.

But beneath all of it lies a simpler truth:

Drunk driving is not a mistake. It is a decision.

And when that decision kills children, the consequences should never be softened by hesitation or silence.

Bernedine Spann did not die because of fate.

Her children did not die because of bad luck.

They died because someone chose to drive drunk—and because that choice wasn’t stopped.

Until accountability is clear, until responsibility is named without hesitation, tragedies like this will keep repeating. Different roads. Different families. Same unbearable outcome.

Three lives lost.

And one question still hanging in the air, heavy with grief and anger:

Will justice be enough—and will it arrive in time to matter?