Not a single mother I know can ever imagine the horrific pain of losing a child. There are no words to console. Nothing that makes it “better.” Nothing that fills the void left when the soul you brought into this world is suddenly gone. I won’t even try to understand what that feels like.
What I can do is speak as a mother — from a place of surrender, compassion, humility, and reverence for the magnitude of loss involved in this story.
This is not about choosing sides; not about right or wrong.
It is about pausing long enough to truly see the human cost of what happened one October night along PCH in 2023 and the emotional, mental, and physical devastation that followed for everyone involved.
This is a story of unimaginable grief and heartbreak. A story of tragic loss. A story scarred by fear, trauma, public pressure, and a justice system under strain. A story where pain collided with reactivity, and where multiple lives were forever altered in a single moment.
As a mother, I try gently to imagine what I would do if something happened to my child. It makes me sick to think about it. I don’t think any of us can truly know how we would respond. Because when loss of that magnitude strikes, something else takes over. The rational mind disappears. The primal, instinctual mama bear awakens in despair and rage.
Let me ask you this: If your child were an innocent bystander killed in a car accident, what would your first response be?
I honestly don’t know how I would go on if I lost my only child. I can perhaps assume that my first instinct would be to look for someone to blame. To want accountability. To want consequences; something that might momentarily ease the pain. Seems to be what we’re conditioned to do — to vilify the perpetrator, to seek the harshest punishment, to believe that justice will somehow balance the scales and bring a fragment of peace. But will it?
Now let me ask another question. One that is equally impossible to sit with.
If your 22 year-old child were behind the wheel of a car that killed innocent people, what would your first response be?
What if your child had been involved in a road-rage incident, was hit by another car who forced him off the road and then hit several parked cars that tragically took four lives, sustained severe head trauma, was pulled abrasively from a wrecked vehicle, interrogated at the scene of unimaginable devastation, and charged immediately with four counts of murder before a full investigation? What would you do as a mother?
Neither of these realities are anything we want to truly consider. And yet, this is the fundamental nature of this story. That night along PCH, a young man was on his way back from picking up tacos to share with a friend at their home, and after a series of events that occurred within seconds, his life and the lives of four young soon-to-be Pepperdine graduates were altered forever. Forever.
What is most concerning and terrifying is, in these moments of despair and fight-or-flight, quickly we default to a “punish the perpetrator” mentality without fully reckoning with what that actually does to help. We want to find reconciliation, healing, anything to take the gut wrenching agony away. But when justice becomes purely retributive, we end up perpetuating the very pain we are longing to resolve.
Pain for pain. Grief for grief. You deserve to suffer as I am suffering so that I can feel some sense of relief.
But it doesn’t work like that. The grief doesn’t leave. The void doesn’t mend. The scales don’t actually balance. Pain projected outward may bring momentary relief, but it does not heal the shattered pieces of loss. And still, this does not mean there should be no accountability. Far from it.
Responsibility matters. Consequences matter. This is not about excusing accountability. It is about honoring truth. The facts of what actually happened that night — the speed of the car, who initiated contact, whether road rage from another driver played a role, and questions of intent — remain unproven. None of this is factual until it is carefully and fairly examined in a court of law.
A young man, Fraser Bohm, will live with the weight of that night for the rest of his life. He will live with the perpetual hate thrown at him and his family over and over again every night he goes to sleep and every morning he wakes up. And four families will wake up every day to a world where their daughters are no longer in it. That is the true tragedy here — neverending impact on all sides.
What I am suggesting to consider is this: Is our current system truly capable of holding the full complexity of situations like this with humanity, discernment, and care?
Because what I see is a justice system that too often fails to slow down. Fails to investigate fully before emotion, optics, and political pressure shape the narrative. Fails to hold space for nuance, trauma on all sides, and the difference between intent and outcome — a significant difference that essentially determines the consequential destiny of a young human life.
All of this at the hands of impatient media who fight to be the first to publish the most glorified sensational story. Effortlessly converting lies into truth at the push of a button without checking facts. Eager to vilify and be on the “good” side of the story. Quick to judge and slow to self-assess, they often fail to remember that more than one life can be irrevocably harmed at the same time.
There is a young man at the center of this who is more than the worst moment of his life. A young man with no prior record, no history of recklessness, no intention of taking lives. And there are four extraordinary young women whose lives ended far too soon, whose shining presence and aching absence will echo forever through the hearts of their family members and loved ones.
Both truths exist at once.
I do not believe this was an act of intentional killing. And as difficult as it is to even begin to fathom the daily grief of the mothers who lost their daughters, I hold compassion for them and for Fraser’s family, who have been consumed by this tragedy from the other side.
Let us remember this: Hate does not bring healing. Dehumanization does not bring justice. Lifelong imprisonment without space for truth, accountability, and repair does not bring children back.
So I ask all mothers, quietly, sincerely, to pause and ask themselves: What would I do? How would I want my child treated? What would justice truly look like if healing, not vengeance, were the goal?
Is a lifetime in prison the only answer we know how to offer? Or can we imagine a system that allows for responsibility and humanity? Consequences and the possibility of transformation? Remorse and the opportunity to reckon, to grow, to live in service of repair? Can we find a way toward restorative justice?
We need a better system — one rooted in truth, compassion, and discernment. We need resources and healing for the families who lost their children. And we need to rewrite the narrative that destroying another family is the same thing as justice.
This begins in our own lives — how we respond to stress and struggle. How we handle big emotions and triggers. Can we slow down, listen, hold space, and allow the answers to come? Can we teach our children to pause before responding, ask questions when they’re confused, take responsibility for their part, and to see the humanity in others even when harm has occurred?
This is a story that requires us to think and feel deeply. To empathize and put ourselves in these mothers’ shoes. Because this story could have your name on it at any given moment. Fraser was just heading out to get tacos. And then everything changed.
If you feel called, I encourage you to listen deeply, to examine the narratives presented in the interview below, to follow along the social channels, to consider donating to Fraser’s fundraiser, and to ask what justice could look like if we were brave enough to re-imagine it.
Because none of this is simple. And all of it should be handled with compassion and care.
Watch the full interview with Fraser’s attorney: Alan Jackson Interview with Brother Counsel
Follow the movement: @truthforfraserbohm on Instagram
Support Fraser’s family: Fight for Fairness: The Fraser Bohm Defense Fund
The resources needed to support his side of the case have been exhausted. Any donation helps.
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