Victim Impact Statement by Bill Williams on behalf of my son David Williams born 16 May 1985 died 25 June 2011

Your Honour Judge Barry LaBarbera. I’m Bill Williams, David Williams’ Dad. I’ve been married to Betty, David’s Mum, for 36 years. I’m 63, Betty is 58. Our daughter Laura, David’s sister, is 30. I have recently retired after a 47-year career in supermarkets. Betty is an economist working for a charity called Find Your Feet, managing aid programmes in India, Nepal, and Malawi. We live in Surrey, England, 15 miles south of Central London. David was born in 1985 so was only 26 when he was killed. From a young age he was fit, strong, sporty and competitive. From about 7 he hiked hills and mountains with us. He ran regularly. He loved football, he played for our local club’s youth teams, which he captained from 9 to 18. He was an outdoor-boy with little interest in TV or video games. David was popular at school, with a wide circle of school and sporting friends, who often met up at our home. At 18 he started work, 1st in retailing and then as a salesman with Sony. David took up long-distance cycling, and raising money for charities he supported. In 2006 he cycled across Sri Lanka with the International Childcare Trust, ICT, raising over £3000 for them. In 2007 he cycled across Cambodia, again for ICT, raising another £3000 and visiting ICT’s centre for orphan girls. He decided to sponsor an orphan girl in Cambodia, a sponsorship he maintained until he was killed, a sponsorship our family now continues in David’s memory. [In your folder is a tribute to David from Maggie O’Grady, the Chief Executive of ICT, published on ICT’s web-site] David took 3 months off work to join an international volunteer programme in Costa Rica teaching children English. He learnt Spanish. He told me that children responded well to him, often more so than to their teachers. He met up with a team of American doctors and medical students, who were providing basic healthcare and immunisations to indigenous Panamanian migrant coffee pickers. He spent 2 weeks of school holidays helping them, and he told me he could calm and comfort children awaiting injections, many of whom didn’t speak Spanish, let alone English. He had found he had an affinity with, and a desire to support, children less well off than himself. When he came home he told Betty and me that he wanted to return to school, take the entrance examinations for university to study medicine, and become a doctor. He volunteered at Treetops, a local respite centre for severely mentally and often physically disabled children, to gain experience of working with disabled children and to improve his CV. From his 1st day he loved the role and was asked to do extra paid work. He qualified as a senior carer, he was accredited to undertake 1-on-1 care, including overnight, and with girls. But he continued to volunteer for 1 shift a week. He became fond of Olivia Newman, a young girl with multiple disabilities, and became a friend of Olivia’s Mum. He was still working for Treetops when he was killed. [In your folder is a letter to you about David from Treetops, and a montage of cards David sent to Olivia when he was travelling]

So David returned to school for 2 years. He became a volunteer blood donor, and organised regular visits from the Blood Transfusion Service to his school, work and gym, encouraging his fellow students, colleagues and staff to donate blood voluntarily. In 2008 he cycled from our home to Istanbul, via Venice with a friend, then on to Istanbul on his own. On his return he had achieved 4 A grades in biology, chemistry, psychology and Spanish, and a place at the prestigious Imperial College London to study medicine. [In your folder is a letter to you about David from Mr MacCaoilte, David’s chemistry teacher]. In 2008 David fell in love with a local girl, Kathryn Scott, but as she was going to university in St. Andrews Scotland, and David would be going to university in London, they both told us they would keep things “cool”. But they didn’t. They spoke to each other most days, David would go to Scotland once during term, Kathryn would come to London once during term. They spent time together during their holidays, and travelled widely together. They planned to marry, but not until after they had both graduated and David had qualified. [In you folder is a photo of David and Kathryn on a hiking holiday together in Italy in 2010]. David spent his 1st year in “halls” – university accommodation. We then bought a small flat in Fulham, ½-way between his university and his teaching hospital, he took in a flat-mate to help fund the flat, and started to build a small home of his own, and an independent life. He loved his medical studies, living in London. He continued cycling, he took up rowing, he joined Thames Rowing Club and was selected for their novice 8, and they won their 1st-year novice regatta against all-comers. He was looking forward to racing against top crews this season. [In your folder is a tribute from Dan Hickling, David’s rowing coach, published in Rowing magazine] David volunteered for and joined the St. John Ambulance, an organisation that provides 1staid at sports events, music concerts, political demonstrations, and he soon achieved accreditation and certification. David had completed 3 successful years at university, his grades were impressive, he was in-line for a “1st”, he was highly complimented on his patient interaction, his bed-side manner, often eliciting information from patients that even his consultants had not been aware of. [In you folder is David’s Medical Professor’s letter to us, his academic record, and David’s Student Union President’s letter to us, and tributes from fellow medical students] David’s aspirations were to qualify with a “1st” then work at, and 1 day run, a clinic in the 3rdworld, providing basic health care, and training nurses to ensure sustainable health for those so much worse off than us. He then planned to become a paediatrician, and finally a family doctor. I don’t think he ever wanted to famous, or rich, but I am sure he would have achieved his ambitions and been a fine doctor. Had David not been killed, he would now be in his 4th year at Imperial, and he had chosen to specialise in world health, subjects including malaria and other mosquito-borne diseases, HIV and AIDS, and both the physiological and psychological effects of the trauma of natural disasters,

displacement and wars. He had been selected for a medical training placement at a refugee camp in Algeria, for refugees from the Morocco/Western Sahara civil war. Although this would have been a harrowing experience, David saw it as a challenging opportunity to gain experience 1st-hand and test his aspirations and his talents for his chosen career. David had always wanted to cycle across the USA. He planned to cycle from Los Angeles to San Francisco along the Pacific Coast, then east to New York. His goal was to do this solo so he could meet Americans, camping overnight, carrying all his gear in panniers, in 47 days of cycling. Although this would be longer than his trip to Istanbul, it would not be more arduous, he could comfortably cycle 100 miles/day, and his rowing had strengthened his cycling ability. He was very keen on the California ride where he hoped to both use and improve his Spanish. David was safety conscious, he bought a new robust bike, he always wore a helmet, he even took lights and spare batteries, although I knew he only intended cycling in daylight, when I asked him why he told me “You never know Dad, I might see an accident, and have to help out, and end up cycling in the dark”. Betty and I decided to come LA with David, have a holiday in California ourselves, meet up with him, at San Francisco, Yosemite and Grand Canyon, where he planned days off, then we’d return home. I had tickets to return to New York to meet him at the end of his ride. The 3 of us arrived in LA 22 June, spent 23 June hiking in Griffiths Park and visiting the observatory, we all had dinner with an old school-friend of mine and his family who now live in LA. On 24 June David set off from our hotel in Rodeo Drive. This was the last time we saw our son alive. [In your folder is our last, and treasured photo of David, as he set off] We had a text from him on his 1st night, he was at a beach camp-site at Carpinteria. This was the last time we heard from David. When we arrived at San Francisco 27 June, 2 police officers told us the terrible news that David had been killed on the evening of 25 June. They phoned the British Embassy and stayed with us whilst the embassy gave me the information they had. Betty went into shock, cold, shaking, and at one stage collapsed onto the floor. But I was able to hug her and warm her. The officers comforted us and told us where to go to in San Luis Obispo the next day. We phoned Betty’s Mum and Dad 1st, they were looking after our house, and our cat. They already knew the tragic news. David had our home address in his passport, the coroner had informed the British Embassy, who informed the Surrey police, who sent 2 officers to our home. But our daughter Laura did not know yet. I knew she was working overnight and would be finishing work soon. We have good friends in the town Laura worked in, I phoned them and spoke to Beverley Chapman, to tell her the terrible news, and ask her to go and meet Laura after work and somehow tell her. She had 20 minutes to take in the awful news herself, get up, it was early morning in England, and get to Laura, which she did. Laura will tell you herself how awful that was. We then phoned Laura, the rest of our family, friends, and David’s friends, many of whom took the responsibility of phoning others for us. I heard later that many of David’s friends came to our house that day, from all over England as well as all over London, to console Laura and David’s grandparents, and they gathered together locally that evening, with Laura, to console each other. Betty and I comforted each other as best we could, we rested but could not sleep, and at dawn, drove the most desolate drive of our life to the Highway Patrol office here in San Luis Obispo.

The commander met us personally, the officers involved gently and sympathetically told us how David had been killed. What we heard was the worst experience of my life, not only the description of the violent death of our son, but that the driver who killed him was both underage and had drunk 4 big beers, that his alcohol level was over twice the adult legal maximum, that he abandoned David who was dying on the roadside and fled the scene, but that he had given himself up and been arrested. 2 officers took Betty and I to the scene, a white cross had been erected, flowers were laid there, I know not by whom, the officers closed the road so Betty and I could spend a quiet moment at the scene of the death of our dear son David. We were then taken to see David, my wonderful son, so strong, his body now cold, destroyed and lifeless. Later we met Doctor Clint Slaughter who described how he tried in vain to keep David alive. He must have judged that although distressed, we wanted to know how David died, and this was when we heard more of the terrible violence of David’s death. His helmet was split in 2 with 1/3rd of it missing, he was bleeding from every orifice when he arrived at the hospital, he had suffered massive blunt force injuries to his head, his skull was fractured, his brain stem was probably severed, if by some miracle he’d survived he would almost certainly have not been the David we had known and loved. David carried an Organ Donor Card, and it was returned to us with his possessions, but the coroner and doctor were unaware of this and so the opportunity to save or enhance another life, from David’s fit young body, was sadly missed. David would regret this. The next day, the same Highway Patrol Officers took us to the scene again, to place our own flowers and photograph of David on the white cross. We then went to see David’s body again, and decided to repatriate his body home. Later we met and cried together with Monica Hernandez, the witness who tended David at the scene and had tried to resuscitate him until the ambulance arrived. Although we didn’t want to be apart, we agreed Betty would fly home as soon as possible, to grieve with our daughter Laura, and prepare for David’s funeral and cremation. I stayed until David’s body was safely home. I just couldn’t leave him here. Once I heard that David was safely home I too returned home. David’s funeral was held in our local church, over 400 family and friends came, 100s standing. His 7 rowing colleagues carried his coffin from the church, leaving a space at bow where David rowed. At the wake afterwards I have never seen so many young people, crying, and laughing, as they told stories of David’s many exploits. One of David’s school friends returned from New Zealand to be with us, a girl I did not know told me she had been in Guatemala on a medical secondment together with several of David’s medical friends, they could only afford for 1 of them to fly home to be with us, so she was representing them all. 3 boys I didn’t know told me they were medical friends too, on a secondment in Germany, their plane was cancelled, so they hired a car and had driven in shifts for 24-hours, too late for the funeral, but in time for the wake. We left after over 4 hours, leaving many of David’s friends still talking to, and comforting each other. David’s friends have been really supportive. On Christmas Eves, David’s local friends would meet up at our house, before celebrating later at our local pub. They asked if they could all meet at our house again this Christmas Eve. So our house was filled with tears and laughter and wonderful memories of David and Christmases past. At dawn on New Year’s Eve, Betty Laura and me, Kathryn, David’s girlfriend, and Eleanor Dodgson, David’s dearest school friend, scattered David’s ashes, and flowers, on a secluded slope of Box Hill, our local beauty spot, where we had walked and cycled with David so many times since he was a little boy.

The impact on me now is still hard describe but I will try. I am determined to be strong, to support Betty and Laura, and in time to lead a fulfilling life again, I know David would want me to. But for now I can’t. I see the tears in Betty’s eyes. I see the tears and loneliness in Laura’s eyes. I try to hide my tears to comfort them, I cry alone. Every time I see a cyclist, a rower, or read of road collision, I see David. I have described our desolation when we heard the awful news over here. On my return to England I have dealt with the authorities, David’s funeral, his money, his flat. Betty has sorted his clothes, his personal possessions, given to his family, friends, the homeless or and other charities. This has been so painful, so intrusive too, David was 26, on the cusp of his life, with so much to live for, now given away, or in boxes. I had seen David grow up to be a fine young man, and hoped to see him become a good doctor, marry, have children, I had hoped that 1 day, hopefully many years ahead, he would say some kind words about me at my funeral, and remain a loving companion to my daughter, his sister Laura, for the rest of their lives. I loved being David’s Dad, and I loved David being my son. We resolved not to erect monuments to David, nor to preserve his bedroom as a shrine, but to strive, as much as we could, to achieve for David some of the things he wanted to achieve himself. As David might have said “To complete those dear unfinished tasks of mine” David had hoped to raise £1000 for Find Your Feet from his cycle ride, tributes from family and friends, and from others I do not know, some in dollars, have raised over £17,000. [In you folder is a tribute to David from Find Your Feet in their Annual Review of 2011] My wife Betty has described her feelings in her letter to you in your folder, much more poignantly then I can. Laura will describe the impact on her herself. Kathryn has lost her young love, and her dreams of her future life with David. Our wider family is distraught too. Not only have Betty, Laura and I lost our son and brother, Betty’s parents have lost their grandson. Betty’s Dad, Harry Tempan, is a famous veteran athlete, at 86 he can still run 10K in under an hour, and holds world veteran records for 800 and 1500M. He still raced, there is a famous handicap race in Richmond Park London, the older runners start off 1st, the younger runners later, David and his Grandad would compete together. Harry no longer feels he can run in this race without David. David’s cousins, nieces and nephews, and friends seek solace together, they hold “David Days” where they meet up to do things they would have liked to do with David. In January they invited Betty, Laura and me to join them all at the Wildlife Photographer of the Year Competition at the Natural History Museum in London. David was a fine young man of whom I was very proud, as were his family, and friends, and our local community. He had achieved many things in his short life but had so much more to achieve. He has been killed aged only 26, he will not see the Grand Canyon, nor the White House, nor the skyscrapers of New York, he will not qualify as a doctor, nor run his clinic in the 3rd World, he will not marry, nor have children of his own. Not through any fault of his own but because Mr Ceja, drunk, killed him. I am told the maximum sentence you can impose on Mr Ceja is 10 years in prison, and if David could speak to you I think he would urge you to impose 10 years. If somebody was physically ill or hurt David would help them and he had the skills to do so, if they were disabled, physically or mentally, he would encourage and support them as he did in his job, but he did firmly believe that

people were accountable for their own actions, that what they actually did was what mattered, not what they promised beforehand or excuses afterwards. I think he would say “You have taken my life, at least 50 years, taken away the career as a doctor I was working towards, taken away my dreams for the future, and caused desolation to my loved ones.” I read about Mothers Against Drunk Driving when I was in this building 8 months ago and I wrote to them about David. Judy Utter, who lost her own daughter Jennifer, killed by a drunk driver over 20 years ago, replied, and has helped me and my family, both with advice and booklets, and by taking a photo of David with her to their annual candlelight vigil for victims. I met Judy for the 1st time yesterday and she is here today and I know she has written to you also asking for the maximum sentence. But Mr Pomeroy has explained to me that 10 years is for even worse cases, sometimes drunk drivers kill 2 or more victims, sometimes they are even more drunk than Mr Ceja, and sometimes it is their 2nd or 3rd offence. I ask that you sentence Mr Ceja to serve a minimum of 5 years in prison. Mr Ceja had choices that day, he chose to entice someone else to buy him beer illegally, he chose to drink 2 big beers in his car alone before he saw his Dad, he chose to drink 2 more big beers in his car alone after he saw his Dad, then he chose to drive. Or if he lied about this and his Dad offered him the beer he could have said "No thanks Dad, I'm driving". He could have phoned his Mum or step-Dad or a friend for a lift, or paid for a taxi, I suppose he could even have driven carefully, and he should have phoned for an ambulance and the police when he killed David, and comforted him as best he could. Everybody knows you shouldn’t drink and drive, and everybody knows why. But Mr Ceja did. He was drunk. He killed David. I don’t ask for less than the maximum because I’m sorry for Mr Ceja, or because I forgive him, or because his family and friends are sticking up for him. 5 years is less than a-tenth of the life David would have lived had Mr Ceja not killed him. But 5 years will send the message that David’s life was valued, and send the message to Mr Ceja, his family, friends and the wider community, that drinking and driving is illegal, because it kills people, and that it will be punished, and so deter others and stem this loss of life of the innocent on the roads of California. After 5 years, Mr Ceja will still be younger than the man he killed, and I hope that, with the support of his family and friends, he will build a good life for himself from then on, and never, never, drink and drive again. I further ask that upon his release Mr Ceja is not allowed to drive again until he has undertaken an educational programme on drinking and driving and satisfied the authorities here that he is safe to drive. What I’d like Mr Ceja to do on his release is devote a year of his life to preventing others doing what he has done, I’d like Mr Ceja to take a picture of David to schools and colleges, youth groups and sports clubs, wherever the young are, and tell them “David would have been a doctor by now if I hadn’t been drunk, and driving, and killed him”, tell them honestly what he did, the consequences for David’s family and friends, the consequences for himself and his family and friends, and so deter others and save other lives, it would be a powerful message. Finally sir, when this nightmare started, when we heard the awful news in San Francisco, I did not know how I could face the next few days, let alone a future without David, but every

American I met treated Betty and me with care, support and understanding, sharing their horror, and I think shame, at what happened to David. Officers Costello and Fahey in San Francisco were caring, compassionate and helpful when they told us the dreadful news. Commander Bill Vail and Officers Jim Opray and Jennifer Opray of the Highway Patrol likewise, and they spent many hours with us, including taking us twice to the scene of David’s death. Jennifer Opray and Betty have kept in touch. Jennifer Cudworth of the Victim and Witness Assistance Center helped us when we here, and has been in regular contact with us since we returned home, Mr Pomeroy met us personally to express his condolences and explain the legal process, and Mr Royer took time out to speak to me kindly of David and his own children. Despite the fact that Betty and I spent the most desolate days of our life here in San Luis Obispo, I will never forget the kindness of strangers here, thank-you, God Bless them all, and God Bless David. Thank-you Your Honour.