Dear Judge

    A few days ago Reed and I were able to watch the change of plea hearing for the dealer whose drugs killed Tracy. Most of the time since his death we have been at the mercy of the Lewis & Clark County justice system, not knowing if they were pursuing his case or not. Neil was charged with selling drugs and the additional charge of causing a death, in March of 2023. That would have been nice to know, but we did not know until Britten and Reed began receiving updates from the prosecutor's office in February giving encouraging, but incorrect news, that Neil pled guilty to all charges and was ready for sentencing. He had not. After a late February Zoom call with the Deputy Prosecutor handling the case, Neil was offered a 40 year sentence for the enhanced charge, in exchange for dropping the other charges. Considering another Helena dealer, whose drugs killed nine people in 36 hours in 2022, was sentenced to 40 years, we considered the offer reasonable. Neil was on probation for drug dealing at the time he sold to Tracy, so he accepted the deal. 

    The prosecutor said we needed to send letters about Tracy to the judge, essentially to be character witnesses for the victim. These will also be read by the parole board when Neil is eligible in 10 years. I have had a hard time figuring out how to start, and especially to end, mine. But I think the one below conveys all the things I want them to know about Tracy.  

Dear Judge,

    What can I say about my youngest son? That he had a sunny personality and sensitive heart even as a young boy. That he brought me his softest teddy bear to use as a pillow, thinking it would ease my migraines. That even during his teenage rebellion years when he thought his home life was hard and strict, he noticed some of his friends had no parents looking after them and no place to live. So he stopped talking about his difficult home, and started inviting some of them to live in ours. We wound up housing seven young men over two years, though no more than three at a time. He thanked us many times verbally, by text, and in writing for our support and not giving up on him.

    Tracy, once he got past the early stages, had an intuitive understanding of mechanics and how things worked. One of the ways he used his skills as an auto mechanic was to buy cars brought in for repair that the owners thought were not worth fixing, repairing them and giving them to family and friends. His service to others was not through an organization, it was the natural byproduct of his generous heart. Like his dad, he could fix or build almost anything. So it was not surprising that in his 30’s, he decided to become an aircraft mechanic, training at the same school in Helena his dad had.

   He was a student at the Helena College of Technology at the time of his death, six weeks from completing his training to be an aircraft mechanic, and had already received his Airframe Certification. For 18 months he had been a top student in his class while working more than full-time as an auto mechanic to support himself. He earned many scholarships while a student there. The last time we saw Tracy was at the Montana Aviation Conference, receiving an academic scholarship from the Montana Antique Aircraft Association, a public highlight for him and us. And thanks to the many people who wanted to do something in Tracy’s memory, we established an aviation scholarship at the college in Tracy’s name. All life is valuable, but Trace was not an addict whose life was spiraling out of control, or passed out on the street, like so much of the news coverage about fentanyl. He was already a gifted mechanic and was training to become a pilot as well. He had many friends, a family who loved him, and a good future ahead of him. God’s plans for him were different from ours, and better, but I want you to know something about the man whose life was taken. And there are many others like him dying in this epidemic.

    We planned for 100 at Tracy’s memorial and more than twice that many came. I wondered why some who didn’t know him that well were there, and then remembered he had worked on their car, or house, or helped them move. It happened so often, I hadn’t kept track. Helping others was just a part of who he was. Although our other two children are willing to help and more than capable, Tracy is the one I thought would be there for me late in life if I became a widow. Tracy is the one I thought would help out my handicapped younger brother after my time, because Tracy is the one who helped him when we traveled together, keeping track of his 5 foot, 98 pound, uncle in the crowds, and making a path for him through packed theme parks.

    I felt safe with Tracy, not because he was physically strong, though he was, but because he saw me in all my frailty and loved me anyway. Tracy was very accepting of human frailty, because he knew his own. Tracy knew Christ as his Savior, and it is knowing I will see him again in heaven, that makes this loss bearable. His sister stayed up late at night unlocking his laptop and phone. Her efforts allowed law enforcement to find the texts that made prosecuting Neil possible. She didn’t want other families to suffer the grief we are. I don’t know what closure is supposed to be like, but I want Neil to pay the full, legal penalty for the life he took. Until he started buying from Neil, a few days before he died, Tracy hadn’t used drugs for six years. Even a 40 year sentence doesn’t feel like justice, it feels like attempting to fill a deep chasm with a grain of sand.                                                                             

     Connie Lamb

                                                                              Tracy’s Mom, forever