Fourth of July is so fragrant. Sun block and gas grills and white wine perfume America, as we celebrate our freedom. It is also the time of year that I say prayers before bed, as it is the anniversary of Kate Flynn’s passing. Kate didn’t just pass though…she was actually taken.

On July 2, 2005, Martin Heidgen decided to drive his car after a game of beer pong and drinking at a bbq. Mr. Heidgen was so entitled in his drunken stupor, that he either turned himself around in a traffic circle or drove down an off ramp onto a New York parkway – and raced into the night, in the wrong direction. Five motorists would later testify to the lengths they went to warn, stop and report Hiedgen’s behavior. But it wasn’t enough to end his 70-mile per hour show of force.

Kate was in a limousine on this parkway. Her Aunt was married that afternoon and Kate was the flower girl. She was buckled in and attempting to sleep in the limo after the best party of her whole life. Her family surrounded her and the hired driver, Mr. Stanley Rabinowitz, was at the helm.

Mr. Rabinowitz was killed instantly when Mr. Hiedgen aimed his car directly into Kate’s limousine. Kate’s Grandma, Grandpa, father and sister were all taken to separate hospitals because the amount of machinery needed to keep them alive was epic. Kate’s mom, somehow, only broke part of her foot. I imagine she was spared physical pain because she was tasked to pick up her perfect, beautiful, first-born daughter and carry her out of the limo. But only part of her—because when Mr. Hiegden drove his car into this family he decapitated Kate Flynn, at seven years old.

I met Kate shortly after she was born. Her mother, Jenna, is my oldest friend. We spent our childhoods together in ugly school uniforms, hearing about the goodness of God. I abandoned this God a long time ago, as the fear that came with his good word out weighed the good for me. My friend still reveres him though and survives, almost entirely, on her faith that He is taking care of Kate. For this reason I catch myself praying to Jenna’s God as June comes to a close each year. And any other I can think of who might help her. I wonder what special bartering chip that I, a mere mortal, might offer these benevolent beings to entice them to stop the unending pain that haunts Jenna and everyone she loves.

But the Gods bring me no solace. I’m more disappointed in them than ever. Except Dionysus. Dionysus I just pity. I imagine that he lies in shame all day on Mt. Olympus as he watches what we have done with his beautiful gift. To take wine – that he meant for merriment and laughter and lovemaking – and use it instead to destroy.

I watched Oprah when she introduced my friend Jenna on her show, a few years after the crash, by asking how many people in the studio audience had ever driven drunk. Everyone sheepishly raising their hands seemed like an act of contrition until I heard Jenna utter, “if you now ask how many people pick their nose, everyone will find it much more uncomfortable to raise their hands.” Which perfectly illuminated where the problem actually exists with drunk driving.

So now I am turning to man and our freedoms that Fourth of July celebrates. Courts can change law but we all make the social judgments. And this is where we need to begin to turn the tide on driving drunk—in one backyard at a time.

If a woman ran out of a bar with a gun in her hand or a college student stumbled out of frat party swinging a bat – the brave would wrestle them down. Yet so many of us say nothing when we watch someone put their drink down and pick up their car keys. Similar to how spousal abuse was “frowned upon” in the 1950’s. Frowning and shaming are two very different things. And with some judgment, dare I even say shame, directed to one person this Fourth of July if they attempt to use a 3000 lb piece of machinery after partying—we can stop the carnage.

So that Jenna and her family can begin to repair themselves, five years after Kate’s death. And Dionysus and his gift might be revered once again. And stories about beheadings at the hand of a drunk, will be reserved solely for period dramas on television. And perhaps, no other flower girls will be murdered when a drunk is allowed, by a backyard full of witnesses, to use a car like a weapon against families on their wedding days.

(Diane Farr is known for her roles in “Californication,” “Numb3rs” and “Rescue Me,” and as the author of “The Girl Code.” You can read her blog at getdianefarr.com, follow her on twitter.com/getdianefarr or contact her on facebook.com/getdianefarr.)

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