Had I played it smart I would have pulled over, taken off my helmet and let these jokers take their pictures. They’d get what they wanted and we could all head away on our own happy little campers. That would have been a normal person’s response. But this is me we’re talking about. I was already pissed at Sheila, I didn’t feel well, and these bastards were fucking with me. So I sped up trying to out run them. I swerved in and out of traffic thinking I could ditch or lose them. Thankfully there weren’t a lot of cars on the highway on the weekends. My escape effort failed as they kept pulling up along side me trying to get their shots. I faintly heard honking from behind me but I couldn’t tell how far back it was coming from. The only thing that raced through my mind was there was now two of them and someone was going to box me in or cut me off. It never occurred to me it was a concerned motorist who saw what was going in front of them and was trying to ward off the paparazzos. I sped up one more time thinking I could gun the motor and leave them in the dirt. Before I could get the bike out of gear I felt something bump me from behind. In the court papers I alleged this was tactic that was done intentionally; they rode up on my back and swiped my back tire. All I can remember about the impact was swerving up on the bank of the cliff along side the highway.
When people tell you awful things happen in slow motion and their life flashes before their eyes they’re full of shit. That mountain was coming at me fast and no past experiences came to mind. I didn’t flashback to my childhood or any other memories. My immediate thought was, “God, don’t let me die.” As the bike rose in the air, I was still gripped to the handlebars. Before I knew what was happening the back tire of the motorcycle was now in front of me over my head. I have no idea how the hell that’s possible but I distinctly remember looking up and seeing the bottom of the bike flying over my head. I think that’s when I finally let go. Every rider will tell you the minute you’re about the lay the bike down, let go. Let it skid or do whatever it’s going to. If you hit the ground you’re going to end up with one hell of a bought of road rash, maybe a broken bone or two, but chances are you’ll survive. I was also told this in motorcycle riding school. I can’t say for sure where the bike finally hit the street but I do know broken pieces were being picked up for hundreds of feet beyond where I landed. Through the shield of my helmet the ground came at me at a rapid speed and was harder than I ever could have imagined. I don’t know how I landed but I know it wasn’t on my feet, which was a good thing. I seem to vaguely remember my left shoulder and side of my head crashing down at the same time. But that could have been in a dream.
I was informed about all of this later from the off duty cop that was behind us and witnessed the entire confrontation. As it turns out this was the guy who’s honking I thought I heard before I went airborne. From his affidavit Officer Leon stated “the back motorcycle tire was struck by the van in the northbound lane on the Pacific Coast Highway. This in turn sent the rider and motorcycle up the embankment of the mountain. I radioed to dispatch identifying myself and noting I was off duty. I notified them of the accident I had just witnessed and requested back-up and an ambulance be sent to our location. As the motorcycle was spinning out of control it lifted off the rocks of the cliff flipping two times in mid-air before landing twenty yard ahead. It was at this point the rider let go of the handgrips and slammed into the pavement of the road. The rider landed on the left side of their body, their shoulder and head hitting the pavement first. I could see from my vantage point the injured person’s helmet snapped back leading me to believe the rider had broken their neck. I also witnessed as the person’s body hit the pavement it contorted at an angle with multiple broken bones and internal injuries possible. It was at this point I was able to leave my vehicle to render aid. As I approached the motionless rider I noticed the motorcycle had hit the ground with an impact that was so severe that the bike had broken into pieces and parts had landed hundreds of yards along the highway and embankment. The emergency personal arrived just as I and another motorist were assisting the rider.
I could tell the person was still breathing as I unzipped the leather jacket. It was only at this time I was aware the rider was female. I was instructed to stay clear of the body from the paramedics as they were attempting to place the person on a stretcher, strapping the riders head down in a stationary position to avoid any further injury or trauma. I identified myself as a police officer at which time I informed them of the severity of the accident and what had transpired. It was at this time I was approached by another off-duty officer on the scene. Officer Hernandez had been traveling south bound on the PCH and managed to cut off the van therefore containing the driver and passenger at the accident scene. The driver of the van which hit the motorcyclist was in fact attempting to flee the crime scene. Officer Hernandez had also witnessed the impact of the accident but was not present when the chase began northbound. Running the driver of the van’s license and his passenger we were informed by teletype of their names and places of residence.
Other questioning revealed the driver Alan Weston worked as a journalist for the publication Sun City. His passenger, Ryan Melting was also employed by the same company as a photographer. I assessed the situation placing them both under arrest for the vehicular accident and trying to flee the scene. It was at this time they notified me the identity of the motorcycle driver was rock musician Tina Marz whom they had been trying to photograph for approximately four miles. I placed the two men with a uniformed officer and they were transported to the main jail for booking. The paramedics radioed for air transport to Los Angeles General Hospital. I remained on the scene until Ms. Marz was airlifted in the helicopter. I returned to my vehicle to radio in my information and proceed to Ms. Marz residence with a marked police car and uniformed officer. . At this time I was unaware of Ms. Marz condition and so noted this in my incident report.”
I can only tell you what I’ve been told about the accident and immediate aftermath. I was unconscious the moment my head hit the ground. Though there were times I was going in an out unsure if what was happening was real or a nightmare. My body felt light at one point, as if I had levitated off the ground. It crossed my mind that I was dead since I couldn’t feel or see anything. I was waiting for a sign or the ‘white light’ everyone supposedly sees when they die. If this were heaven, I hate to break the news to you, but there was nothing there. Just a big black void of nothingness, it certainly wasn’t what I was lead to believe it would be. At least I didn’t die from a drug overdose. But if there really isn’t a heaven than the comfort of knowing I’d be with my parents and friends again was gone. I would truly be alone laying somewhere in the cold ground. Obviously I’m not dead since I’m writing this book. So my experience with heaven never happened at all. I don’t recall the helicopter though I do remember hearing very loud noises. I felt like by body was being bumped around and pulled in several directions. I can’t explain what that’s about. Maybe being taken from the helipad and pushed through the hospital? I’m really not sure. There were bright lights that were stifled by the broken visor of my helmet that was still attached to my head. I slowly started becoming aware of what was going on and realized I was in a hospital. I could tell by the smell and the people that flanked me on both sides of the gurney; we were moving at a rapid pace. When the pain in my body started to register with my brain my ears filled with loud high pitched screaming. I couldn’t move my body at all. Fear overcame me and I began to panic. My breathing was labored, my heart started to pound and my chest felt like it was caving in. The movement stopped abruptly and I could feel tearing at my clothes. The doctor’s and nurses began cutting off my clothes. I felt a vibration in my head area. This was probably the scariest moment of all. I body was racked with excruciating pain as the doctors began cutting off my motorcycle helmet with a craniotome machine. I could barely hear them speaking but I did catch one of them saying this was the only way to get it off without causing additional damage to my head and neck.
The extent of my injuries weren’t known yet and trying to pull off my head piece like normal could snap my neck; if it wasn’t broken already. All I could tell was my shield was cracked. I had no idea the impact of the crash had also cracked my helmet from front to back. It didn’t completely separate but it was hanging by strings and the padding inside. My beloved jacket was toast for lack of a better word. It did save my body from completely blowing apart and kept my limbs attached. The road rash had burned completely through the side panels of the leather and my sides looked like raw hamburger. I know of at least two tattoos I lost to the heat of the highway. My legs went beyond aching to a cooling numb sensation. As the head gear was broken apart the air in the room hit and stung my face with a sharpness that seemed to burn through my skin. I kept my eyes closed as an oxygen mask was placed over my mouth. I could feel tears rolling down my face as waves of pain washed over me again and again. The doctor’s and nurses began talking so fast and loud that I couldn’t bare all the noise. I felt something sharp go into my left arm and right hand. I could only assume at this point one was an IV and prayed the other was pain medication. Every part of my body they touched felt like it had broken into a thousand pieces. I could hear cracking sounds which sent me into another panic. Finally opening my eyes, the florescent lights above my head just added to my agony. I tried to speak but couldn’t. The only sound that came out of my throat was screams and cries. As quickly as it began it stopped. Whatever it was they gave me did the trick. I was out like a Christmas tree on Easter. It was either the drugs or I lapsed into a coma. I didn’t have time to think about anyone accept myself. Darren, Sheila, Marty, Lisa; no one came to my mind. God did answer my prayer, I was still alive. The shape of my being physically and mentally at this point was anyone’s guess.