At Graduation, Sorrow and Healing

In the days after her 4-year-old daughter, Sierra, was killed while playing at a Costa Mesa preschool, Cindy Soto thought grief would overwhelm her.

“I loved my daughter more than anything in the world--I’m a single mother, and she was everything to me,” Soto said Saturday morning, shortly before receiving her master’s degree hood in psychology at Cal State Fullerton.

Hours before the ceremony, Soto was on campus collecting signatures for a proposed law aimed at cracking down on people who commit crimes against children. It’s a crusade she began soon after Sierra and a playmate were killed earlier this month.

They were among about 40 children playing at the Southcoast Early Childhood Learning Center when a Cadillac plowed into the preschool yard. Police arrested Steven Allen Abrams, who investigators believe hit the children purposely because he was unhappy with a failed relationship.

In Sierra’s name, Soto is seeking legislation to require physical barriers on playgrounds, block walls, 6-foot iron fences and visual barriers so children are not easily seen. She also is seeking to have crimes against children designated as hate crimes.

With a gold angel and shooting star pinned on her black robe, Soto joined that fraternity of parents trying to make sure their loss has some positive outcome.

As classmates, professors and the curious stopped by her booth in front of the Titan Book Store, Soto accepted condolences with a smile. She explained to those who did not know about the large portrait of the smiling little girl.

“My daughter was one of the children killed at that day-care center,” she would explain. “I’m the mom of a child who was killed. . . .”

Classmates also teared up while hugging Soto. Although Sierra went to preschool three days a week, she often accompanied her mother to Cal State Fullerton, drawing in coloring books while deep discussions of psychology swirled around her.

Attending her graduation ceremony Saturday took every bit of courage Soto had.

As the various departments held their individual graduation ceremonies, Soto often spoke of her tragedy before a backdrop of cheers.

“It was hard for me to come here today. But if I didn’t come, he would have won,” she said, referring to the driver of the Cadillac.

“He didn’t keep me from being here,” Soto said, gesturing to her daughter’s photo. “He didn’t keep Sierra from being here.”

The tragedy has not shaken her faith in people or in God.

“My faith keeps me going. I’m a Christian, and I believe my daughter is up in heaven with Jesus Christ. She was killed by a man, but she was immediately taken by God.”

Even so, the questions by fellow students, the hugs, the innocent admiration of her daughter’s picture by a black-haired little girl, brought Soto again and again to the edge of tears.

But Soto said the graduation offered too good an opportunity to tell everyone about Sierra and to ask for their support of the law.

While she gathered signatures, Soto’s father and mother--John Johnson, 59, and Joanne Thomas, 58--looked on proudly. Ironically, they live in Littleton, Colo., the site of last month’s high school massacre.

When the shooting at Columbine High School occurred, Johnson said all he could think was “Thank God I don’t have a child in school anymore.”

Then, on May 1, he lost his granddaughter in the preschool accident.

“There are too many people today who fail to develop a conscience, and it leads to these random acts of violence,” he said.

But the love and support of the Orange County community have helped the family focus on the good in people, Johnson said.

“If anything, this tragedy has moved my needle in a more loving way to people because of just this enormous outpouring we have seen,” he said.

Shortly after noon, Soto took her photos of Sierra and marched with her classmates to receive her hood. She will receive her degree in the coming months after she completes her thesis.

She kissed her hand to her daughter’s and waved it skyward. Then, worn out, she went home, she said with a half smile, to collapse.