Farmers’ Market Crash Dredges Up Memories for Families

On the day George Russell Weller crashed into the Santa Monica Farmers’ Market, Abby Pollack cried for the victims. But she also cried for her own loss of more than two years ago.

“In one second I got a cold chill up the back of my spine,” Pollack said recently. “The tape I used to play in my head constantly came back.... The street lights, the apartments, the cold of the night, the revving of the car, the screaming, the bang, bang, bang, bang.... “

Her 27-year-old son, Elie Israel, was run over by a driver who sped down a crowded street in the Isla Vista neighborhood by UC Santa Barbara on Feb. 23, 2001. Three other young adults died that night: Ruth Levy, a 20-year-old Santa Barbara City College student; and two 20-year-old UCSB sophomores, Nicholas Bourdakis and Christopher Divis. Levy’s brother, Albert, who was visiting from the Bay Area, survived with serious injuries.

Pictures of the car that killed her son were much like those of Weller’s Buick in Santa Monica: Only moments after careening down a crowded street, the deadly weapon rested, a crumpled piece of metal.

And much like the Santa Monica scene, views of the chaotic street where the bodies lay in Isla Vista were broadcast all over the airwaves.

“I just started to cry for these people,” said Pollack. “I just thought, ‘They have no idea what’s in store for them’ -- it’s so hideous.”

David Attias, the driver in Isla Vista, walked away from the crash practically unscathed, as did Weller. Attias, an 18-year-old UCSB freshman with a history of mental illness, was found guilty of murder and declared legally insane. He is incarcerated for an indeterminate amount of time at Patton State Hospital in San Bernardino.

Ten people died and dozens more were injured in the July 16 Santa Monica crash. Santa Monica authorities have not decided whether to charge Weller, who is 86.

After the initial flurry of news stories about the Isla Vista crash died down, the families were left alone, grappling with grief and trying to make sure that when people think of their children, they don’t think only of Attias. They want people to know that Israel, whose passion was photography, was engaged to a beautiful woman and bought an image transfer lab in San Francisco five months before he died; that Bourdakis had a passion for geography as well as flying and had his pilot’s license; that Divis was outgoing and fun and loved to write and party; that Levy was vibrant and beautiful, with an electrifying smile.

The parents of those killed by Attias struggle in their own ways. Arthur Levy, a San Francisco attorney who lost his daughter in the crash and whose son was permanently injured, sees a therapist four times a week. Tricia and Tony Bourdakis, who live in Alamo, Calif., say that this year they have finally overcome just enough of their anger to even begin grieving.

Pollack, 61, a former academic who writes fiction, still struggles with the reality of her child’s death, the things he will never be able to see or do, and the judicial system that cannot do enough, if anything, for her or the other victims’ families and friends.

There are places and things that make her feel better, however, including her garden. “For a while I was really mad at my garden, because it kept blooming, and I thought, ‘What’s wrong with you -- to keep going like nothing happened?’ ... You expect the entire world to stop dead and not be productive in any sort of way.”

She’d find herself sitting at her window, “glaring at the garden.” Then, one day, she decided to start gardening again -- and it became her therapy. Her neighbors helped -- they gave a her a cash gift soon after Elie’s death, which Pollack used to create a garden with a plaque and magnolia tree at a park near her house.

She finds consolation at her son’s grave, atop a hill in Oakland, which she visits once a week. “Every time I go there I’m so happy that’s where he is,” she said. “It allows me to have an ongoing dialogue with Elie.... It’s a ritual that was painful for so long and is now such a consolation.”

Arthur Levy takes fresh flowers each week to his daughter’s grave.

Seeing a psychologist and having dinner with his ex-wife and their son once a week have helped him through the pain. But, he said: “It’s always with me. You work, you survive. It doesn’t go away.”

The Bourdakises also have found a way to keep their son’s memory alive: They endowed the Nicholas Bourdakis Memorial Fund in the UC Santa Barbara geography department, an annual $1,000 award to an outstanding student.

Tony Bourdakis said he is helped by the hope that he will someday not be consumed by the loss of his son. “I feel like I will come to grips with this and be able to just think of the good memories. That’s really what keeps me going,” he said.

Albert Levy, 29, struggles with depression and grief every day, Arthur Levy said. Although Albert is still the “charming person,” he always was, he has difficulty doing simple things, Levy said. Albert, who was always an A student, returned to school but had to drop out.

A year after their children were killed, Pollack and the other families filed a wrongful death lawsuit against Attias and his parents, Daniel and Diane. In the suit, which is pending, they claim the Attiases were negligent in giving their son a car.

What Pollack wants out of the civil case is not money, she said, but an acknowledgment of her son’s life. She is haunted by the fact that during Attias’ trial, the victims were virtually ignored.

“No one testified about our children, about the lives they led and the people they loved and who loved them,” she said. Tricia Bourdakis continues to think about “the 20 years I had with Nick. I have no problem thinking about all the things we did, the laughter. When I stop to think about what was taken from me, the future ... it brings me to my knees.”