February 17, 2008

The Honorable Judge Joanne F. Alper:

I am Nathan’s mom. For over 25 years I had the privilege and honor of being Nathan Bradley Marti’s mother before he was so senselessly and cruelly taken from me. I have had many jobs over the years, but the only one that truly counts is being my children’s mother. Although I still have two wonderful daughters whom I love with all of my heart, there is an emptiness inside of me due to Nathan’s death that will haunt me every day for the rest of my life. Nathan’s name means, “Gift from God,” and that he was.

There is a special bond between a mother and a son, and although Nathan is so very far away, God willing, this bond will remain strong. Nathan was, and always will be, the light of my life. As a mother, I often wondered what my children would be like as adults. Nathan was one in a million. He was kind, loving, happy, sincere, loyal, genuine, humble, caring, affectionate, hardworking, sentimental. and most of all, religious. Nathan was the embodiment of what was good and right in this world. He had a smile that would light up a room. And he had that rare instinctive gift of making everyone feel important, special, loved, and appreciated.

Nathan’s death has affected me in so many ways---physically, mentally, and emotionally. I weep every day for him and for my family’s loss. It is so gut wrenching and heartbreaking as a wife and a mother to watch my husband and daughters suffer so and not be able to do anything. I find sleep and peace of mind hard to come by for myself as well. I now take anti-anxiety medication as well as antidepressants to help me make it through each day. I meet weekly with a counselor. I clench my teeth so tightly in my “sleep” that I now have to wear a mouth guard. Since I was informed in my classroom at school about Nathan’s death, I have had to change schools. I am no longer the wife, mother, daughter, friend, or teacher I once was. In that aspect, I feel I have been robbed not only of my son, but also of my joy of life. Every day now has to be taken one, hard step at a time.

I have lost my confidant, my sage advisor, my calm voice in the storm, my go-to-child. Nathan was a true doer and listener. He could not do enough for others including family, friends, or even strangers. Nathan had been a blood donor since high school and wished to be an organ donor. The manner in which he was killed, however, prevented and robbed him of giving his last gift to humanity, his organs.

As a Founding Father of his Sigma Pi Fraternity Chapter at Radford University, Nathan was the Philanthropy Chairman. He organized the most successful blood drive in Radford’s history for the Red Cross, helped build two homes for Habitat for Humanity, organized a food drive for the local food pantry, raised money for the St. Baldrick children’s cancer fund drive, and in general looked out for everyone he ever met. I am still hearing about his selfless good deeds from his friends and often wonder what else he could have done, or how many other lives he would have influenced if he had had another 70 years on this earth.

I find myself mourning not only my loss of Nathan, but also for the generations I have lost because of his death. I try not to let my mind wander to the “never-will-be’s” or the “what if’s,” but it is so hard for me not to sob when I think that I

will never see his handsome face again, hear his beautiful voice, see his name on my caller ID, or open the front door and see him standing there with coffee or flowers for me with that beautiful grin on his face. I will never see or hear him laugh again. He will never again show up and say, “It’s half-price wings’ night at Glory Days. My treat.” We will never play croquet together as a family again. I will never hear the excitement in Nathan’s voice as he tells me he has asked his girlfriend to marry him, or that he is going to be a father, or a grandfather. I will never dance with him at his wedding. Nathan will never sing to me again or call me by the pet name he had for me. I will never receive another email from him that simply says, “Love you.” I will never open another gift or card from him in which he has written a sentimental note to me. Nathan will never call again at midnight and wish us a happy new year. We will have no more happy years. The anguish and loss I feel cannot even be adequately described.

My family has just endured the worst summer, fall, and holidays of our lives, and we still have more firsts to endure: Nathan’s birthday on February 23, Easter, my 36th wedding anniversary, my birthday, Mother’s Day, Memorial Day, the first anniversary of his death. In essence however, each day without Nathan is a first for us to face. God willing, my husband and I will have another 30+ years of life and my daughters 70+. I find it almost impossible to think we will have to face that many years without our Nathan. How can this be?

Nathan lived every day as if it were his last, and for that I am truly thankful and grateful. I often envied his happy-go-lucky outlook on life. His car was only 16 months old, but he already had 25,000 miles on it. He told me it was because when his family or friends needed him, he wanted to be there for them. It was in his nature to be the organizer, the supporter, and the one person we could always count on for anything. Blessed we all are for having Nathan in our lives.

Sadly, Nathan’s death has made me a mother who must balance my grief with the joy of living. My newest grandson was born on October 16, 2007, and his birth was sadly and tragically overshadowed by Nathan’s death. This is not right. It is also not right that Preston Nathan will never know his Uncle Nathan and vice versa. Watching Nathan interact with his other nephew and nieces over the years was such fun. He was the perfect uncle and would have been the perfect father. Our entire family has been affected by Nathan’s death. My parents, who are in their 80’s, have been devastated by

our loss of Nathan. It hurts me tremendously to see them suffer. This is without a doubt, the nightmare that never ends.

So much has been lost due to a selfish drunk driver. I cannot help but feel that Nathan was given a death sentence and we were given a life sentence. If it were in my power, Your Honor, I would sentence the admitted criminal to the entire 20 years in prison. However, I would really prefer him to remain in prison for the rest of his life. I would also sentence him to the unending sorrow, grief, heartache, and sadness we wake up to each day knowing that our beloved Nathan is no longer with us.

I have given up asking “Why?” I know why, and I know whom. I also know this man will never begin to realize who he has taken from the earth and our lives. This criminal is a murderer and a thief. I seek justice for my son who would surely do the same for me. I ask, Your Honor, not to let Nathan, who truly believed in the justice system down as you consider the sentence. This man must never be allowed to do this to anyone else or anyone else’s family again. No one has the selfish right to drive drunk and murder someone.

Nathan often said he would take a bullet for us. I truly believe he “took a bullet” for someone the early morning hours of June 5, 2007. I also believe that if the drunk driver had not killed my son, he would surely have killed someone else. Nathan was simply on his way to work at the Department of State. He was not even supposed to be on the road at that hour. Nathan was filling in for a co-worker who had called in because her dog was sick.

Nathan has left a legacy of loving kindness. Nathan loved his family, his friends, his job, his girlfriend, his pets, and his life. He did not have an enemy in the world until the night he was killed. Nathan should still be here with us. I should not have to speak about my son in the past tense. I am a lesser person because my son is gone.

I will mourn and weep for Nathan every second of every day I live. I would give anything to have my happy-go-lucky son of sons back. No parents should have to bury their 25-year-old son. No parents or sisters should feel the needless pain and suffering we feel. Nathan Bradley Marti was an extraordinary son and human being who did not deserve this fate. I ask, Your Honor, that you consider rendering a sentence that you would give to someone who had taken your own son’s life.

Most sincerely, and with a heavy heart, I am

Susan MartiMother of Beloved Son, Nathan Bradley