Bruce Kimball wants to drive again. R.J. Kerker doesn't think that's such a good idea.
Kerker can't forget the last time Kimball was behind the wheel, driving drunk on a rural Florida road. Every morning he's reminded of it when he puts on his plastic leg brace.
Kerker isn't able to play soccer the way he used to. But the brace helps him walk without a noticeable limp.
''I can still surf,'' he said. ''That's the one thing I can still do.''
Kerker's friend, 16-year-old Kevin Gossic, wasn't so lucky. Gossic and Kerker drove together that August night 15 years ago to a Florida hangout called The Spot on a dark country road.
Gossic died instantly when Kimball's car ripped through the group of teens, sending them flying in all directions. So did 19-year-old Robbie Bedell, a sophomore at the University of Florida.
They never knew the driver who ended their lives was a 1984 Olympic diving silver medalist then in training for the 1988 Games in Seoul. The last thing they would have seen were his headlights speeding toward them.
That night, Kimball drank 12 beers in two hours before he got behind the wheel. His blood alcohol level was .20, twice the legal limit.
Like many drunk drivers, he walked away unhurt.
Sentenced to 17 years in prison, Kimball served nearly five. It wasn't enough for Bedell's parents.
''Our justice system is just a shambles,'' Theresa Bedell said at the time.
The judge banned Kimball from ever driving again. His victims knew he would eventually get out of prison, but they thought the driving ban would last a lifetime.
Now, they're not so sure. His bid to drive again was rejected last year but he is appealing and will have a hearing this week.
Kimball, by all accounts, has led an exemplary life since getting out of prison. The 40-year-old lives in the Chicago area, is married with a child, and teaches and coaches young divers.
In a letter to the secretary of state last year asking for an Illinois license, he said he regularly attends Alcoholics Anonymous meetings.
''I can give you no guarantee that I will never drink again because that's not how it works,'' Kimball wrote.
That's not good enough for Kerker. He has forgiven, but he has not forgotten. He doesn't want Kimball on the road again.
''My sister lives 20 minutes from him and she's got a 6-month-old baby,'' Kerker said. ''I have a cousin who lives down the street from him.
''I don't want him driving.''
Kerker was 16 when he joined some 50 kids at the popular hangout in Hillsborough County, Fla. Kerker and Gossic were talking to 18-year-old April Bruffy about the new movie ''Die Hard'' when Kimball missed a turn into a friend's driveway.
The next thing Kerker knew he was looking down at his mangled left leg, barely attached by some skin to the rest of his body.
Bruffy's leg was nearly severed, too, and she ended up undergoing 11 operations. Gossic was killed instantly, as was Bedell.
Doctors thought they might have to amputate Kerker's leg. They warned him he might never walk again. But, after numerous tests and surgeries, he's at the point where he leads a fairly normal life.
Bedell's parents were at the beach that night. It wasn't until the next morning that a friend told them their only child was dead.
''We were totally devastated,'' Robert Bedell said in ''The Aftermath,'' a 1990 film about the accident that is still shown in schools and traffic safety classes.
Kimball bailed out of jail the next day. He expressed sympathy for the victims, but then further angered their friends and families by going to Indianapolis to try to qualify for the 1988 Olympics.
A half dozen teens raised money and went to the diving trials, where they wore pink shirts and stood in silent protest as Kimball dived. They cheered when he finished fourth and didn't make the Olympic team.
Kimball's trial a few months later lasted only one day. After hearing graphic testimony from a sheriff's deputy and facing hostile witnesses, Kimball agreed to a plea deal.
Today, Kerker lives in Brandon, Fla. He's the father of two, a manager at Verizon and a big Tampa Bay Bucs fan. He underwent surgery again last year and has a handicap sticker for his car, though he's not comfortable using it.
Kerker understands that Kimball has paid a price for his crime.
After all these years, though, something still nags at him. He's never heard from Kimball himself.
''That's the weird thing. There were no letters, nothing like that,'' Kerker said. ''I figure maybe he didn't feel comfortable doing that. I don't know.
''But it would have been nice.''
Tim Dahlberg is a national sports columnist for The Associated Press. Write to him at email@example.com.
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