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Įither alone, or in a group, kids will asphyxiate themselves to the point of losing consciousness. "Have you ever heard of the 'Choking Game?'" He had been kneeling over CoriAnn that night in the basement, staring into the vacant blues eyes of a girl who should have been at a party. Two days later, Officer Douglas Russell of the Tuxedo police knocked on the door. "To lose her, then to think she ended it. "Nothing made sense those two days," Kevin says. She had only just thrown her jeans in the dryer. A dogeared set of Harry Potter books on a cluttered bureau. A poster of the Pussycat Dolls, another of heartthrob Jesse McCartney. There was no note, just a newly crowned teenager's mess of a room. There is a rhythm in the room: the beeps, the cadence of CPR, the orders being barked.
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In the rearview mirror, Kevin sees Lauren in the back seat, praying and making the sign of the cross.Īt the hospital, doctors and nurses wheel CoriAnn into a private room. Without missing a step, Lauren is running out of the restaurant with her dad. He marches inside and sees Lauren, waitressing. In Sloatsburg, Kevin yanks the wheel and stops at Rhodes North Tavern. The parents jump in their Ford Taurus and burn down Route 17, racing the ambulance bound for Good Samaritan Hospital in Suffern. Theresa calls Tara and then CoriAnn's only brother, Kevin Jr., who's at a sweet 16 party. Reaching the top, he sees only his daughter's bare feet. Soon, police and EMS workers are in the basement. Theresa runs upstairs and calls 911 as Kevin performs CPR. Her blue eyes are wide open but listless. The other end is tied to a steel stairsupport bar.īoth parents are lunging for their daughter. She is leaning slightly forward, held only by a pink bathrobe sash around her neck. Then came a sound Kevin still can't shake.īefore Theresa screams it a second time, Kevin, an ironworker with a bad back and a worse neck, is barreling down the basement steps.ĬoriAnn is on her knees beneath the exposed staircase, her back to her parents.
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The wheel is spinning on the TV as Kevin halfhears - his wife call a second time for CoriAnn. It was a scoop neck, a design that made Kevin wince.īut that week's main event, the one that made CoriAnn giggle and blush was better than the tickets, better than a birthday. She picked out her "grownup" junior bridesmaid dress that she was to wear to the upcoming wedding of her oldest sister, Tara. Her birthday present was tickets to see her favorite band, Train, in April at the Beacon Theatre in New York. The R.S.V.P.s from her Tuxedo classmates were piling up. It was to be a discotheme party and Theresa and Kevin were going to rig a disco ball in the living room. The seventhgrader sent out invitations for a belated birthday bash. On the 25th, she celebrated her 13th birthday. That last week in March, CoriAnn was racing into adolescence. Peace, baby.ĬoriAnn would've done fingers with her dad before she left for the party. She'll make it halfway down the block, remember, and run back into the house. When someone departs, whether on vacation or to pick up pizza, they touch their index finger and middle finger to another's and each recites: "Love you, miss you, drive safe.
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They don't know how, but each knows which is which. They can communicate with simple squeezes of the hands or on the tops of knees. There is a rhythm to the McDevitt family bond. Lauren has hip clothes and the only fulllength mirror in the house.
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Probably scavenging in the basement bedroom of her 21yearold sister, Lauren, who's at work. She only hears the rumbles of the Whirlpool dryer. A hint of cigarette smoke creeps from the nearby enclosed porch, where she likes to toke her Marlboros. Theresa, tall and thin with long, black hair, stands at the top of the basement stairs. The dingdongs of "Final Jeopardy" ring from her parents' firstfloor bedroom where Kevin, her father, lies halfdozing on the bed. "Throw them back in the dryer for 10 minutes and I'll run you right over," her mother, Theresa, tells her. They're the only ones to wear to this Friday night party. Though her closet's stuffed with jeans, she wants the offwhite Hydraulics she bought two weeks ago at the Palisades Center. It's already 7:10, and 13yearold - CoriAnn McDevitt's jeans are still damp.