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Lacey Jarrell’s Shrine

I know of no more heart-rending roadside shrine in this state than Lacey Jarrell’s. It lies at the side of a hill along River Road. It’s easy to miss except for the red flower bouquet on a thin green post. This is where she died. She rolled her car coming round the bend on River west of Swan. Her story was superbly told by the Star’s Tom Beal in an article that appeared seven years ago. To read it is to weep. She was 16.

Jarrell was driving. Much too fast. She missed the big curve.

It was a mistake.

When you reach a certain age, the mistakes pile up. And when you think about them, they begin to resemble Everest. When you put them in a greater context, they can seem like blessings.




  1. I don’t know why I googled Lacey’s name today. I do it every now and then. I am her mother. She was just 16 when she died. A little girl really.
    Thank you for writing about her memorial with kindness. Whenever I discover something new relevant to her I feel more connected to her and grateful that she is not forgotten.

    Nancy Jarrell O’Donnell

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