Bothell couple is driven to help others

• “I can honestly say it scares the hell out of me to think I could inflict this pain on anyone.”

Andersons formed DWI Victims Panel

• “I can honestly say it scares the hell out of me to think I could inflict this pain on anyone.”

• “I was very deeply moved by this panel. I am truly glad I was ordered by the courts to come here.”

• “I have not sat in a room with this amount of people and had a room so quiet.”

These are just a few of the responses Bothell’s Shirley Anderson has helped elicit during the past 25 years, years she has spent talking to virtually anyone who would listen (or was made to listen) to the story of the death of her son, Mark.

A member of the Air Force, Anderson said her son was in California on his way to a leadership training course, something to which he was apparently looking forward.

“He was on his way to just where he wanted to be,” Shirley said.

A drunk driver ran a red light, according to Shirley and her husband, Larry Anderson.

At the age of 23, Mark Steven Anderson was pronounced dead at the scene.

Both of Mark’s parents clearly did not want to just forget their son and the accident that took his life.

“Our son is not just a statistic,” Larry insisted at one point.

After Shirley spent some time working with Mothers Against Drunk Driving, she and Larry founded the DWI Victims Panel, backed by now-retired Northeast King County District Court Judge David Admire. Since then, King County judges have had the option of mandating DWI offenders attend one of the panels set up by Larry and Shirley, panels during which Shirley and other DWI victims and their family members tell their stories.

“We’re not judgmental, we’re not there to point fingers,” Larry said.

“We’re not against drinking, we’re against drinking and driving,” Shirley said, adding she always starts by stating she knows her audience doesn’t want to be there. Then she adds that she doesn’t want to be there either and that she has a much better reason.

“I cry all the time,” Shirley said. “I always have make sure I have Kleenex with me.”

While he certainly supports his wife’s efforts, Larry doesn’t speak at the panels.

“I break up too much,” he said. “I just couldn’t keep talking.”

At the start of each panel, Larry and Shirley both said there is usually a lot of boredom and resentment evident in the audience. They both swear that changes as the roughly two-hour program proceeds.

“They come and give me hugs … It’s just amazing,” Shirley said.

“They’ll change right in front of your face, maybe not all, you can’t reach them all, but it does affect them,” Larry said. “I’m sure we’re saving lives.”

While the Andersons work mostly with King County officials, the panel idea has spread throughout the state. By 1992, there were seven victim panels in Washington and the state legislature passed a bill formally making attendance at panels part of the potential sentencing for DWI offenders. Today, there about 27 DWI panels in Washington. The DWI Victims Panel started by the Andersons long has been a full-time concern, with a full-time employee who helps run the administrative side of things.

“I never thought at the time that it would grow to what it is,” Shirley said.

At 81 and 80, respectively, Larry and Shirley still help put on roughly four or five panels a month. They have regular presentations at churches in Kenmore, but will take their panel anywhere it’s wanted.

“Whoever calls, we’ll go,” Shirley said.

The two have travelled throughout the country, been to military bases and Native American Reservations. They used to travel to fairs, parks and even malls with what Larry called the Victim’s Van, a transformed motor home. Over the years, Shirley has appeared on national TV. Still, in the end, she said it all comes back to spreading the message.

Asked if she gets tired of speaking at the panels, Shirley has a quick and emphatic answer.

“Never,” she said, later adding she has no choice but to do what she does, mentioning four other children, 10 grandchildren and seven great-grandchildren.

“I don’t know how to protect them if I don’t talk,” Shirley said.