How the families of 12 fallen Aggies have coped with tragic loss
Eagle Staff Report
Twelve families forever changed when bonfire collapsed a decade ago on the Texas A&M campus.
Gone for each was a loved one who died too young and without warning.
The loss of 11 students and one graduate incited depression and anger in some, long before forgiveness set in.
The deaths impacted job performance for some parents, created guilt in a few siblings, relocated one couple out of state and split up one marriage.
For many, it strengthened their faith and drew their family closer than ever. One mother joined the ministry; several sisters and brothers enrolled at the university because of the bond developed by the tragedy.
The grief of each family can't be measured, though, and all would trade anything to erase the outcome of the school's deadliest disaster.
The Aggies killed when the 2 million-pound log structure crashed to the ground while under construction have been honored by their school with a scholarship in their names and a $5 million granite Bonfire Memorial standing where the structure once did.
As Wednesday's 10th anniversary draws near, each family remembers in different ways.
Miranda Denise Adams
Every year there's a birthday cake; every holiday, a trip to the cemetery.
If it hadn't been for God, Carolyn Adams said, she doesn't know how she could have survived the death of her 19-year-old daughter.
"I didn't think I could live a day without Miranda, and God is so good. He has seen us through this and continues to hold us up," she said. "If anything, I think our faith has strengthened."
Miranda Denise Adams, who died in the collapse, was a sophomore majoring in biomedical sciences. Her love for children enhanced her desire to be a pediatrician, her family said.
"We still had to deal with the same grief process, and being angry at God is something even the people that love God do," Carolyn Adams said. "I know that I was, and it was really hard for me to admit that. But I also know God understands he made us and knows the feelings we have before we even think them."
As they have every year since their daughter died, Adams said, she and her husband, Ken, along with their two sons, daughter-in-laws, grandchildren and extended family, will make a trip to Texas A&M for the anniversary ceremony.
"Our extended family is really good about not being afraid to talk about her," she said. "A lot of times people don't want to upset us. It's not them talking about her if I get upset, it's the situation that she's not here."
Adams said she bakes a cake every year in honor of her daughter's birthday. Every Christmas, the family reads a poem before dinner called Christmas in Heaven. And every holiday, the family takes a trip to the cemetery.
"It's real obvious to me and to her daddy on holidays and stuff that she's not there," she said.
Adams said two of her three grandkids were born after her daughter's death, and they have grown up going to the cemetery. She said it's hard to look at them and not think how much they are missing out by not being around their aunt. But as much as the family talks about her, Adams said, the grandchildren have said they felt as if they knew her.
She said she had imagined over the years where Miranda would be if she were alive, what she would be doing, if she would be married or have kids.
Through her death though, Adams said, her daughter made an impact on those she knew, including her mom, who said she learned to be more accepting.
"She could be friends with such a variety of people and just love them for who they were and not feel like she would have to change them. She was just amazing," she said.
Not long after the collapse, a Fish Camp counselor mailed an index card that Miranda had filled out with her list of priorities to her parents: God, family and friends and education. Shortly after, Adams said, they found a quote in her e-mail account that said, "God's hand is always there. Once you grasp it, you'll never want to let it go."
"It was almost like it was telling us, 'Momma I'm with God. You don't have to worry about me,'" Carolyn Adams recalled during a recent telephone interview.
Miranda's former roommates have made efforts to keep the Adams family in their lives. Adams said they've been invited to their weddings and participated in other events with them.
The past 10 years has been a journey, but the support of family, friends and the Aggie community has made it a bit easier, she said. Adams said that, through the tragedy, they have been able to form lasting relationships with other parents of the students who died in the collapse.
"I just can't put it into words how much I miss my daughter. I just miss that relationship. I love boys. I love my boys. But they've got that father-son relationship," Carolyn Adams said. "That's what I miss. I miss my Miranda."
-- Reported by Cassie Smith
Christopher David Breen
Two file boxes jammed tight with documents moved around John Breen's office for most of the past decade: He continued to pore over the contents, even though he knew exactly what each page said.
The paperwork had nothing to do with his job as chairman of the Department of Civil Engineering at the University of Texas at Austin.
It all was tied to the 1999 Aggie Bonfire collapse that took the life of his youngest of seven children, Chris Breen, who had graduated two years earlier but was back at his alma mater to help build the stack. Those boxes supplied evidence for a lawsuit filed in federal court and for a battle the Breens led at a state agency to make certain future bonfire construction sites would be overseen by professionals.
"The boxes were an open, burning sore," John Breen said of the documentation that included depositions from administrators and from students responsible for the construction. "My wife, Marian, suggested I try to get rid of it. Move on. The lawsuits were long over. Why keep them?"
And so, two months ago, he threw the file boxes away.
The major push, he said, was a visit earlier in the year from then-A&M President Elsa Murano.
"She met with all the families to get their views on bonfire returning to campus -- it was this very nice meeting where she was very sincere and had a very human response," Breen recalled during a recent phone interview from their home in Austin. "I can't speak for everyone in my family, but I realized it's just time to take all that old hatred and put it behind us. Look positively ahead and move forward. She helped me do that."
Over the years, it wasn't solely the collapse that caused his bitterness, but the response following the deaths. While a fund was set up to pay for all the funerals, a simple gesture -- or, rather, lack thereof -- is what stuck with many in the Breen family: They were invited several weeks after the disaster to a Silver Taps ceremony to honor the dead, but an administrator approached the Breens -- all graduates of the University of Texas -- and informed them that there were plaques for the 11 students but not their son, because he already had graduated and was working in sales 90 miles away in Austin.
"We learned later that the tradition only recognized current students. We wouldn't have minded had they not asked us to come to the ceremony and explained it to us," Breen said of his son who served in the Corps of Cadets. "There was no heart to it. It left us with an added feeling of despair."
Under the guidance of son Sean, a lawyer, the Breens took their case to the Texas Board of Professional Engineers in 2000, asking it to find A&M -- not the students who built the bonfire -- at fault for not properly overseeing such a dangerous project. The state agency blamed no individuals but did eventually require A&M to promise that professional engineers would oversee the project if it ever returned to campus. So far, it has not.
The Breens also took A&M to federal court, saying the administration had knowingly placed those who worked on bonfire in danger and should be held accountable. The suit made it to the U.S. Supreme Court, which declined to take up the case.
"Ultimately, we accomplished making sure the project would be overseen by professionals," Breen said.
The Breens, a close family, have opted not to attend any of the A&M-sponsored anniversary memorials, though the parents do make a trip to the site several times a year. They also stop in at St. Mary's Catholic Church, where the Breens donated money for a deck to be built for students to study and have parties.
On each anniversary of their son's death, the family gathers at St. Austin's Catholic Church in Austin for Mass, but the 10th anniversary will be different. The family will be in Chile for the high school graduation of the oldest of 11 grandchildren. There, they will attend a service for Chris.
"Every year is as significant as the last," Breen said. "We all do our best to remember the good times. It's like with most who suffer a great loss -- the best thing to do is keep acknowledging the loss and don't pretend nothing happened."
Stories about his youngest son are frequently told to the grandchildren so they will know him, too. They typically relate to his adventurous spirit, his dad said, adding that they named the family sailboat after him: Tio Chris "Uncle Chris" in Spanish).
"He was very kind, full of fun and loved the outdoors," his dad said of the Eagle Scout. "That's where we see Chris -- in the outdoors and all that's wondrous there."
-- Reported by Kelly Brown
Michael Stephen Ebanks
Michael Ebanks spent the last night of his life playing piano in the flag room of the Memorial Student Center and studying physics, and then he headed to work on Aggie Bonfire.
In the flag room, the self-taught classical pianist met Sara Thornton. They struck up a conversation about the music he had played, and she asked him if he was planning on studying anymore that night.
"He smiled and told me that more than anything, he would probably wind up at bonfire to help with stack. At that point, I could see the sparkle in his eye again," Thornton wrote in a memorial letter. An excerpt from that letter, which details some of his last moments, is now etched on Michael's portal at the Bonfire Memorial.
Working on bonfire was a dream come true for Michael, his family said. He even wrote that down as one of his goals at Fish Camp. His father, Jerry Ebanks, said that he never was opposed to his son's working on bonfire, mostly because he knew that he couldn't stop him if he tried.
Michael was a 19-year-old freshman aerospace engineering major who dreamed of being an astronaut. He even collected aluminum cans to support his trips to Space Camp twice as a child. He earned his private pilot's license at 17.
Michael admired his older brother, Keith, who had graduated from Texas A&M in 1989. Five years later, Keith died in a car accident.
"Keith's death probably solidified [Michael's] attempt to try to get into A&M," Jerry Ebanks said.
Another five years passed before Jerry and Bulinda Ebanks of Carrollton lost their second son in a tragedy.
"There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about both of those boys, but we both realized that life must go on," Jerry Ebanks said.
The Ebankses also have a daughter and son-in-law, Cynthia and Phil Wade. The father remembers a conversation he had with his daughter about a week after Michael's death.
"If we have any kids, they won't have any uncles," Jerry Ebanks said, repeating his daughter's comments and tearing up.
Jerry and Bulinda used to refer to Michael as their "live-in grandchild" because their other children were 14 and 16 years older than he.
"He was mischievous and playful and incredibly confident," Jerry Ebanks said.
He was asked to deliver a speech on behalf of all the victims' families in 2004 at the dedication ceremony for the Bonfire Memorial. In it he said: "Every family member here still struggles often -- we can't deny that. But we want to leave you with one main thought. The beauty of these 12 and all that they were, combined with the love, support and caring that has been bestowed on all of us, should convince you that God still has created a beautiful world."
Michael Ebanks left behind a long list of dreams that he had achieved and a long list of dreams yet to be realized.
At Fish Camp several months before his death, he wrote down these: Make a 3.0 or better, work on bonfire, meet everyone, play on an intramural team, get a cool chick, have fun, be known.
-- Reported by Kayla Slimp
Jeremy Richard Frampton
As a counselor, Judi Frampton Hedstrom knows that tragedies can tear a family apart.
So, in retrospect, she isn't surprised at how her family handled the death of her son, Jeremy Frampton, in the 1999 bonfire collapse.
Hedstrom and Jeremy's father divorced about nine months after the accident. His older brother, Scott, who had worked on bonfire 10 years earlier, struggled with guilt for introducing Jeremy to the Aggie tradition.
Frampton's younger brother, Zac, began drinking heavily and eventually had to drop out of college, the mother said.
But as the anniversary of the collapse approaches, Hedstrom said, she stands in awe of how the memory of their son helped them recover -- and to bring so much good to the world.
"I am amazed all the time as things weave themselves together, and I see all the connections and all the neat things that have been done because of Jeremy," Hedstrom said. "It is amazing, and it encourages me during those times when I am at my lowest and the grieving goes on."
This week, many of those people he touched -- directly or indirectly -- will return to Aggieland to remember the man who died at the age of 22.
Hedstrom and her new husband are driving in from Arizona. He lost his son, too, and the two were brought together by their grief. They now counsel other couples dealing with tragedy so that they can keep their families together.
Jeremy's father, who also remarried, will come from his son's hometown of Turlock, Calif., while Zac will also arrive from California. He recovered from his alcohol problems, thanks to the help of a group called Prodigal Sons and Daughters.
The family was so grateful for the group's help that they gave it $30,000. The money came from funds donated to the family in Jeremy's honor, and the nonprofit organization used it to build Jeremy's Clubhouse, a drug- and alcohol-free hangout.
Zac went on to graduate with honors from California State University, Stanislaus, and then to seminary. He went to work with the group that helped him recover and has become chief executive officer of Prodigal Sons and Daughters.
Carmen Littleford never knew Jeremy, but she was touched by his legacy years after his death.
Hedstrom said she and her son always dreamed about visiting Africa. After Jeremy died, she decided to go and worked for a few years at a school for missionaries' children in Nairobi.
While there, she met Littleford, who wanted to become an engineer and to study at Texas A&M. She is attending with the help of a scholarship established in Jeremy's name.
Hedstrom thinks constantly about what Jeremy would be doing if his life hadn't ended prematurely.
He was shopping for an engagement ring for his girlfriend of six years when he died. His parents bought the ring for her anyway. She now is married and has two children.
"I am their Mimi," Hedstrom said of her relationship with the children. "It is kind of hard because I look at them and I think that would have been Jeremy."
His mom still has the books he bought to help him apply to graduate school. She says he might have joined the military as his older brother, Scott, did.
"I feel like he would have been doing some good things," she said.
But even after his death, he has brought good to many people, she said.
--Reported by Matthew Watkins
Jamie Lynn Hand
If there is any good to come from the death of a child, Neva Hand said, it's been the relationships that developed between other parents who lost loved ones in the bonfire collapse.
Ten years may be an important anniversary for some, but Hand said every day is a reminder of the Aggie tradition that stole the life of her 19-year-old daughter, Jamie Lynn Hand, a freshman environmental design major.
"There's not a day that goes by that we don't think about her, and sometimes we don't cry, but not every day," she said. "You just can't even imagine how drastically all our lives have changed. From that point on, decisions were altered."
Hand said she and her husband, Larry, would drive three hours from Henderson to meet their two daughters and son-in-law to attend the anniversary ceremony at the university. It's a trip they've taken every year and an opportunity to meet with other Aggie parents brought together through the horrific event, she said.
Since the tragedy, Hand said, she and her husband have retired and her three daughters have graduated from A&M.
"It is really nice to have all of them graduated from A&M. But it's a little sad sometimes when you think Jamie should have been there for all those ceremonies," she said. "But at the same time, any time we have some milestone like that in our family, we are a united front -- we are celebrating together."
Hand said some of the parents of students who died in the collapse have become close friends. She said she and her husband have season tickets to the Aggie football games and sit next to Ken and Carolyn Adams, the parents of the only other woman to die in the collapse, Miranda Denise Adams.
Hand said the couples meet near the Bonfire Memorial on campus and walk to Kyle Field before the games. Hand said they also regularly meet up with several of the other parents over the year and share memories of their loved ones.
"You talk about life changing, we met as a result of the collapse," she said. "We met some wonderful people who have stayed in our lives since then."
Though her daughter has been remembered each day over the past decade, Hand said, they've occasionally had a birthday cake on her birthday and pull out old photographs and videos of her.
The 10-year anniversary isn't "much different than the ninth, eighth or any other year to those who had something so precious stolen from them," she said.
"I think the memorial itself is helpful in allowing people to see Jamie through Jamie's eyes because the words on her portal were her words," she said.
-- Reported by Cassie Smith
Christopher Lee Heard
A decade later, Les and Andrea Heard are 1,000 miles from where they were when their son, Christopher, was killed in the Aggie Bonfire collapse.
After the death of their son, who was a freshman ocean engineering major with aspirations to become a U.S. Navy SEAL like his father, they needed a fresh start in a new place.
"That year after losing Chris, we'd see everyone and then have to see that look in their eyes," Andrea Heard said. "We just wanted to move on with life. It felt like we were just going through the motions."
Moving from South Texas to a small seaside community in Florida allowed them to do so, they said.
"There's something so peaceful about walking on the beach and listening to the waves come in softly," she said. "It was very healing for us."
Quietly and alone, avoiding crowds when possible, the couple has visited the campus a few times to see the Bonfire Memorial.
They did attend ceremonies for the five-year anniversary but won't be in town for this week's remembrance ceremony.
"We do think they did a wonderful job with the memorial," Andrea Heard said. "Sometimes, it's just so hard to go."
It was at a University of Texas versus A&M football game in Austin that their son decided to become an Aggie.
"We were tailgating with an ex-UT football player I used to work with," Andrea Heard said. "Then the Corps of Cadets came by, and Chris just got wide-eyed. So, despite his brother being at UT, he wanted to be in the Corps. He wanted to go to A&M."
The family was looking forward to some competitive football games, the couple said.
"Though neither were so fanatical about football games, they would have gotten into fisticuffs," Andrea Heard said, laughing about the seriousness of the rivalry for some.
Some days are harder than others for the family.
When friends of Christopher's get married, the Heards can't help but think of their son and the wife he might have had.
But they remember the good times, like getting to see him graduate from high school in the top 10 percent of his class at the Marine Military Academy in Harlingen and receive the distinction of being named Outstanding Senior Military Cadet.
The day the bonfire collapsed, Christopher had gone with his roommate to the Marine recruiting office in Post Oak Mall and signed up.
These days, the Heards enjoy spending time with their son Jason -- who at 32 is one of the youngest majors in the U.S. Air Force -- his wife and their two grandchildren.
Painful memories and reminders of Christopher were left behind in Texas, but other struggles followed the Heards to Florida. Andrea received a kidney transplant from her husband in February.
The Heards keep busy, which both say is important in healing. Andrea does volunteer work with the local Humane Society; Les volunteers as a firefighter and enjoys fishing and sailing.
"We've got two stoplights here now, and when we moved here there was one," Les Heard said. "We were just in the traffic there, going through the motions. We know we made the right decision."
-- Reported by Michelle Casady
Timothy Doran Kerlee Jr.
Several days ago, Janice Kerlee said, she already had her sermon prepared for Sunday.
Encouragement will be the focus, taken from a short verse in the book of Hebrews, which she will relate to the story of her son, Tim Kerlee Jr., who died in the Aggie Bonfire collapse.
Not long after their son's death, Tim Sr. and Janice Kerlee sold their home in Tennessee, quit their jobs and started a new life in College Station. They lived and worked in the community until about a year and a half ago, offering counseling services to students through A&M United Methodist Church.
She said she felt that she needed to know more about God and, in the wake of Tim's death, decided to attend school at Southern Methodist University's Perkins School of Theology.
The Methodist Church assigned her a congregation of her own about 18 months ago in the small community of Lissie, about 90 miles away in Wharton County.
Her husband, who retired while Tim Jr. was in high school, keeps busy by substitute teaching Sunday school and helping his wife with the duties required to operate a church.
As part of her healing process, Janice Kerlee wrote a book about her experiences in coping with her son's death, The Chance to Say Goodbye.
About 4,000 copies of the book have been sold, she said -- enough to fund five scholarships in Tim's name at A&M.
"A man came up to me and said, 'I'm active in the church and here today because your book changed my life,'" Janice Kerlee said. "It wasn't the book, it was Tim's story, and our story. That means so much to me because I know Tim's life and Tim's death can be a witness today. To know that this whole incident changed people's lives for the better is a real inspiration to the power of God to take the worst things in our lives and make something good out of them."
They hope to move back to Aggieland someday, but Janice Kerlee said she knows that decision won't be hers to make.
"College Station is where our friends are and our hearts are, but when you go into the ministry, you have to go where the greater good is for the church," she said.
They visit frequently, though, and kept their local doctors. On Tuesday, the couple will be in town for the memorial services.
At 17, Tim Kerlee Jr. was the youngest to die in the bonfire collapse -- a freshman with enough credit hours to be classified as a sophomore. For many, what he did while pinned under thousands of pounds of logs is a defining story of the tragedy.
He had a crushed pelvis, but rather than allowing emergency workers to remove him from the pile, he insisted: "Help my buddies first; I'm OK."
From his vantage point, he was able to point out others trapped in the stack to rescue workers and even took the time to say a prayer with one for her safety.
He died in the hospital the following day, surrounded by friends and family and with a pair of senior boots and a saber at his bedside, brought in by members of his Squadron 16.
The Kerlees were named parents of the year in 2003 for their commitment to A&M and its students.
It's hard to say how differently things would have turned out had bonfire not collapsed, Janice Kerlee said.
"Well, Tim was always open to see where the doors would lead him," she said. "He had no preconceptions about what he would be doing, and there may have been a reason for that. He just loved life."
-- Reported by Michelle Casady.
Lucas John Kimmel
Though 10 years has passed since Lucas Kimmel died, his parents haven't redecorated the room of their youngest son.
It now serves as the computer and guest room in Jim and Walieta Kimmel's Corpus Christi home, but it looks the same as it did the day he left for college in 1999, they said.
Lucas Kimmel wanted to be an Aggie, following in the footsteps of his brother, Matthew.
"He never gave any other school a thought," his father said of the freshman biomedical sciences major who celebrated his 19th birthday two days before he was killed in the bonfire collapse. "He wanted to go to A&M, and he strove to get there."
He also wanted to serve in the military, but above all, the animal lover wanted to be a veterinarian. He was on his way to reaching all of those dreams, his family said.
"He had everything planned. I've never met anyone like that. He knew exactly what he wanted," said Jonathan Kimmel, Lucas' older brother.
Once at A&M, he joined Company D-2 in the Corps of Cadets.
Though Lucas never saw a bonfire burn, his brother remembers that Lucas' love for the tradition developed at an early age.
"On the farm, he piled up the brush and made a bonfire," said the 41-year-old Palestine resident, whose 14-year-old son, Jonathan Jr., is Lucas' godson. The family received special permission from the bishop to allow Lucas to be a godfather at the age of 14.
Jonathan Kimmel said that his son is similar to Lucas in his attitude, personality, intelligence and what he is involved in. The 14-year-old is on his way to becoming an Eagle Scout like his uncle.
"Lucas was a very active person and upbeat. Jonathan is the same way," the brother said. "I can see a lot of Lucas in him."
Walieta Kimmel still sends Jonathan Jr. Christmas and birthday gifts every year in memory of her son.
"We talk about him all the time. He's still an important part of Jonathan Jr.'s life," Jonathan said.
The Kimmels now have 17 grandchildren, along with their four children, to help them cope with Lucas' death, but his father said they remember their youngest son through pictures and memories.
"He's forever on our minds. He was an important part of our lives," he said.
Jonathan Kimmel, who was very close to his younger brother, said that he still thinks about Lucas all the time but knows it is far worse for his parents.
"It was bad enough to lose a brother," he said. "I can't imagine losing a son."
The family drives up to College Station each November to visit the memorial.
Lucas Kimmel is buried at the cemetery of the church his parents attend in Corpus Christi. Every Sunday, they visit his grave and make sure the Aggie flag they placed there still is flying.
"We say 'Howdy' and pull the weeds," Jim Kimmel said.
-- Reported by Kayla Slimp
Bryan Allen McClain
In 1998, Bryan McClain saw his first Aggie Bonfire burn.
The high school senior drove from San Antonio to College Station to watch it. A year later, the event that had fueled his enthusiasm about attending A&M filled his final moments.
Like many of the others killed when bonfire collapsed, McClain had dreamed of going to Texas A&M since he was a small child. He didn't apply to any other school.
He participated in "Spend the Night with the Corps" during his senior year in high school and later joined Squadron 2.
At the time of his death, he was a 19-year-old freshman agriculture major, but he was hoping to earn a degree in entomology, the study of insects. He was even known by friends as "Bug Boy."
A look into Bryan's life is etched on his portal at the Bonfire Memorial.
"At the time of Bryan's death, it was said by many that he had put more into his 19 years of life than a person 80 years old," an inscription in the portal reads. "Bryan was never silent, nor was he ever still. He was full of energy and enthusiasm. Bryan threw himself into every activity with gusto."
According to reports published after his death, McClain enjoyed every kind of music and had mastered acoustic guitar and piano. He also loved the outdoors, whether he was hunting, fishing, hiking or swimming.
The son of Phil McClain and Kathy McClain Esamilla, he was on the swim team at James Madison High School in San Antonio for four years and spent his summers as a lifeguard and swim instructor.
He was described by neighbors and friends as polite, well-behaved, kind and considerate.
The McClain family was one of four that decided to file lawsuits against some administrators, A&M, students and others related to the construction of the stack. Their lawyer, Darrell Keith, said his clients declined to be interviewed until all litigation is over.
The suit against Texas A&M was settled in October 2008 after the university agreed to pay $2.1 million to the four families suing, along with several of the injured. A suit against the student leadership of bonfire -- called red pots -- was settled out of court for almost $6 million; lawsuits against professional crane operators and equipment owners at the site are pending.
"Each day reminds each of these families of that terrible event 10 years ago," Keith said. "Anniversaries are especially hard on all of them."
-- Reported by Kayla Slimp
Chad Anthony Powell
Chad Anthony Powell showed up to help stack bonfire on Nov. 18, 1999, though he hadn't been feeling well, friends recalled.
The freshman from Keller felt a sense of responsibility to the stack and would skip sleep to help out in whatever way possible.
People who knew Chad well noted his strong commitment to service and his unwavering faith. He was president of the National Honor Society in high school and had earned the title of Eagle Scout before the age of 16.
Chad was majoring in computer engineering when the bonfire fell and he was killed. The 19-year-old had hoped to own a computer business one day.
Fort Worth-based attorney Gino Borchardt, who was hired by the Powell family in 2001, said he'd had the opportunity to get to know Chad through his parents.
"I think as the anniversary approaches, the Powells would want people to remember not only Chad's life, but the full lives of every victim of the tragedy -- those who died, those who were injured and everyone who was out there and impacted by it," Borchardt said. "That's who Chad was. While he was a great student, Eagle Scout and all that, he was someone who believed that you should give of yourself to make others better."
The attorney recalled a story Powell's father told about the pair going on a camping trip for quality father-son time.
"Younger Scouts ended up being on the trip and needed to be shown how to do things, so Chad took over and naturally picked up and aided them, so by the end of the weekend when father and son rejoined, Chad explained to his dad that was just how things were supposed to unfold that weekend. Others needed their help."
He said the Powells spoke with the media after the lawsuit was settled against Texas A&M in October 2008 but opted to remain out of the spotlight as the 10th anniversary approaches.
"I would say there's not a single day that they don't think about Chad and all he meant to those around him," Borchardt said. "He's their son, and he's greatly missed."
-- Reported by Maggie Kiely
Jerry Don Self
Mike Self isn't an Aggie, but he bleeds maroon nonetheless.
Self became entrenched in the university's traditions when his son began attending Texas A&M.
"When I went down and saw my first bonfire, I was just overwhelmed," he said.
The devotion to the Aggie spirit intensified after the outpouring of support his family received when Jerry Self, a junior engineering major from Arlington, was killed when the bonfire stack collapsed.
"People just came out of nowhere," he said. "I had so many letters and phone calls, and people drove down to meet me. It was just awesome and overwhelming."
Self said he would participate in events commemorating the 10th anniversary of the bonfire's collapse and planned to go to the off-campus Student Bonfire. He feels like a member of the Aggie family, he said, and tries to attend A&M football games and other events with someone who has never been to Aggieland so he can show them around.
"Every kid I meet, I tell them before they make a decision, to give A&M a chance," he said.
Self said he didn't support litigation related to the bonfire collapse initiated by his ex-wife, Jacki Self. The couple divorced before the accident.
Through her attorney, Jacki Self declined to comment for this story.
Darrell Keith said the strain of fighting a school that her son adored had put added pressure on Jacki Self over the years.
Keith was hired in 2000 by Self -- the first to file a lawsuit related to the collapse -- and now represents two of the injured and three families of students who were killed.
"Jacki didn't want any other parent to experience the devastating loss that she did, but there was a lot of pressure put on her and other families' members to not sue Texas A&M," Keith said. "A great injustice had been done and A&M covered up the truth, so Jacki Self wanted to bring the university and anyone else responsible to justice. She filed suit, and other parents mustered the courage to join her.
"The litigation has been tedious. It took a long time to bring A&M and its administrators to the settlement table -- to their credit, they learned a valuable lesson; however, it's unfortunate that it took them a decade to come around and do the right thing," Keith said.
That many in the "Aggie nation" let Self and the other families know through Internet message boards that they were upset by the lawsuits added insult to injury, he said.
"These are fine, decent people whose primary motivation has been to bring the defendants to justice for a terrible wrong and hopefully ensure it never happens again. The motivations are not about money and never have been -- to say otherwise is an injustice in itself."
He said Jacki Self remains devastated by the loss of her son -- it was years before she could return to work.
"It's a loss she carries with her every single day," Keith said.
Mike Self said he saw it differently, that the Internet message boards offered him some of the greatest comfort and helped him see that his son had touched more people than he had realized.
"People wrote in from all over the country that were affected" by the bonfire tragedy, Mike Self said. "Some of them knew Jerry, and some of them didn't, but there's just page after page after page of people."
-- Reported by Darren Benson
Nathan Scott West
Nathan Scott West's father expects that he would be serving his country as a member of the Navy if he were still alive.
Richard West said his son, whom family and friends called Scott, was a proud member of the Texas A&M Corps of Cadets when he was killed in the bonfire collapse.
West said he knew how hard Scott -- a sophomore studying ocean engineering -- would have had to work to become a member of the Navy SEALs, a highly competitive and well-trained special operations force, but doesn't doubt his son would be putting forward his best efforts.
Since his son was killed in the bonfire collapse, West said, there haven't been significant changes in his life or that of his family.
"I changed jobs once during the period, and part of that was bonfire-related," he said. "They didn't like taking time off."
West now works as an architect consultant, which requires him to be on the road. He and his wife still live in Bellaire, where Scott was born and raised, and much of their lifestyle remains the same.
It's his attitude toward life that transformed the most since losing his son, he said.
"It affects your outlook on life, and your dreams of the future change," he said. "The way you react to situations changes."
West said he and his family, including Scott's sister and her husband, would travel to College Station for the remembrance ceremonies, as they have done for each anniversary.
The bonfire ceremonies are a good time for the loved ones of those killed to come together and reflect on good memories, he said. Although he doesn't see them often, he said, he and his wife have become close with parents of some of the other victims.
Being a part of the Aggie family has been a great source of support for members of the West family, who say their son always wanted to attend A&M.
Scott was quiet and often kept to himself, his father said, but that didn't keep him from becoming involved in the bonfire tradition, an activity that became important to the young man in his short time at the university.
"He was just proud of being an Aggie and loved being in the Corps," West said. "He was excited about bonfire. He called us a week before, and we talked about it. He wasn't scheduled to be out there originally."
West said in addition to all the wonderful qualities Scott displayed in his short lifetime, he always would remember his son's sense of humor.
"He had just a very sophisticated, dry sense of humor that adults got," he said. "He acquired a positive outlook on life."
-- Reported by Maggie Kiely
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