April 25, 2006

By MARY AMES

Frontiersman WASILLA - Jonathan Harrell had just started sixth grade, and there wasn't a thing he didn't love.

The 12-year-old was a smart boy who loved all animals, from insects to dogs, and was teased by his family about becoming a veterinarian. He was the only blood-related grandson in a huge family with 11 other grandkids, someone the younger children could rely on to find worms and play swords. And he was a neat freak who kept his room clean, with everything in boxes and not one thing out of place.

Jonathan was riding with his mom, Trish Harrell, his twin sister, Jennifer, and his 15-year-old sister, Suzanne, a little after 3 p.m. on August 27. Their 1995 GMC Jimmy was heading north at Mile 46 Parks Highway. They were going to a birthday party for Jonathan's one-year-old cousin. Going to that happy event, Jonathan was in the front seat.

That's when a 1996 Ford Bronco driven by Sean Cunningham, 38, veered across the center line and smashed into the Harrell car, killing Jonathan, shattering Trish's body, putting Suzanne in a coma for 10 days, and sending Jennifer to the hospital with a broken wrist. The crash tore apart the fabric of the Harrells' life, leaving them so devastated they still have not been able to put Jonathan's obituary in the newspaper.

“Jonathan shouldn't be dead,” Karena Forster, Jonathan's aunt, said last fall. “He should be in middle school. I don't want people to forget what happened. The driver needs to be put away, but he's not even in custody. They are waiting on a tox screen before they charge him.”

Forster was driven to find out all she could about the driver who killed her nephew. She rooted out the records of a man who, through the years, racked up numerous citations for driving without a valid license.

Sometimes Cunningham had a license, sometimes he didn't. But he never stopped driving.

Cunningham's license was reinstated April 27, 2005, according to Greg Wilkinson, spokesman for the Alaska State Troopers. That was four months to the day before Jonathan Harrell died on the Parks Highway. Cunningham was cited Sept. 7 for operating a vehicle with expired registration and for not carrying proof of insurance. But Cunningham never will be charged with anything else related to the crash.

He's lost to the world, dead of what the Wasilla police said was a suspected drug overdose in his mother's Wasilla home on April 14.

For Cunningham's sister, Cher Potts, the older brother she grew up with in Anchorage was lost a long time ago.

“When we were kids, he was my big brother, my protector, my everything,” Potts said. “We were very close.”

Cunningham was a troubled child who held everything in and seemed to not get over traumas, Potts said. He hung out with other troubled kids in high school, experimenting with drugs and then using cocaine and drinking heavily when he was in his 20's.

Cunningham had been sober for more than 6 months when an event that may have been the beginning of his downward spiral happened on June 8, 1992, said Potts.

Cunningham was behind the wheel of a 1970 Ford Bronco that veered across the center line of the Seward Highway about 7 p.m., south of McHugh Creek. Cunningham's Bronco hit a 1978 Dodge Magnum sedan. James Stapleton, 38, of Willow, was killed in the crash, and Stapleton's passenger, Shirley Ramirez, was hospitalized, according an Alaska State Troopers report.

That fatal crash happened one year and 20 days before Jonathan Harrell was born.

According to Potts, Cunningham had monster tires put on the Bronco, and one of the wheels came off because the lug nuts hadn't been tightened properly.

Cunningham's girlfriend, Kara Watkins, was ejected from the truck and sustained serious, lasting brain injuries, Potts said. Cunningham's pelvis, legs and knees were shattered, and he received a head injury that never was treated.

Cunningham didn't have a license then, and he was cited for that, Potts said. He and Watkins won a settlement of about a half-million dollars from Charley's Classic Cars, she said. But Cunningham, who had earned a living putting fireproofing on high-rises, never worked again except for odd jobs.

He became addicted to the pain medications prescribed for his injuries.

The Tylox from the hospital led to morphine a couple of years later, about a year after Jonathan Harrell was born.

“I warned him about messing around with that,” Potts said. “He ended up on high doses of Methadone, Restoril and OxyContin. I'm not sure what else, but he graduated to heroin.”

Cunningham spent time in and out of five or six different clinics getting different prescription medications for his pain.

“Either the doctors would get arrested, or he would get kicked out for a dirty urinalysis for using other drugs,” Potts said. “Just before the August wreck, his latest doctor had been arrested.”

The state crime lab, as a general practice, only screens blood for commonly abused drugs. Blood samples involving more complicated screening are sent to a lab in the Lower 48.

The toxicology screen for Cunningham's blood still wasn't complete eight months after Jonathan's death. That's because of the need to piece together all the combinations and interactions of medications in Cunningham's blood, according to Wilkinson.

Although she didn't like to be around the man her brother became, Potts would if she had to, such as when he wouldn't move out of his mother's house.

“He would manipulate mom with guilt,” she said. “I kicked him out. I called and yelled at him, gave him money and told him to get a hotel room.”

It was a coincidence that Cunningham was at his mother's when he overdosed, Potts said. And although it was terrible, her mother is doing pretty well.

“Over the last year, she has been really worried about him and felt helpless,” Potts said. “This was better than hearing about it a week later. It's a burden off her heart. She's comforted by her church and her community.”

With Cunningham dead, Potts reached out to Jonathan's grandfather, Ben Harrell.

“I've been so concerned about that family,” she said. “They have been on my heart for a long time.”

Potts and Forster share one hope - that someone will learn something from what happened to Cunningham and Jonathan Harrell.

“It won't be in vain if it reaches at least one person.” Potts said.

Forster, who lives across the road from the crash site, sees the memorials laid there, reminders of her nephew, each day.

“No matter which way I turn, I have to live with it every day,” Forster said. “I want everyone to know not to be stupid, to not drive crazy. This is how it happened. Stop it.”

Contact Mary Ames at

352-2284 or mary.ames@

frontiersman.com.