Torri Wightman

Victoria Ellen Wightman

(written by a brave Charter School student two days after Torri's death)

Life is a journey that we all undertake; a journey that confuses many. Each day we are presented with new ideas, paths of life, and possibilities. Many of us pass these opportunities up, while others embrace them. Although many take different approaches to life, we all live under the impression that these opportunities will arise again.

On the morning of May 16th, Victoria “Torri” Wightman, a well known and beloved student here at the Charter School died in a tragic automobile accident on Route 106 in Plympton. Torri, and 3 friends heading toward Halifax that morning tragically hit a puddle, causing the driver to lose control of the vehicle, and collide head on with an approaching mini-van. Sadly, Torri was pronounced dead on the scene by Plympton authorities while the driver and two other passengers were transported to Boston Medical Center in critical condition.

Most of us watch the news, read the paper, or listen to the radio everyday. We hear of shootings, accidents, and fires; we see family members on the news, lost and broken; we look, nod our heads, and think “wow”, but our days continue. The afternoon of May 16th was just like every other afternoon; I arrived home, let out the dog, and sat down at the computer; nothing out of the ordinary. At 3:30 my cell phone rang, I answered the phone just like any other phone call, but this sadly wasn’t just “any other phone call”. “Dan” she said, “someone was involved in a horrible accident…”. I paused for a moment, and replied. “Who…?”, “Torri Wightman…”  For the rest of my life I will never forget the feeling that came upon me. Unlike what we hear on the news, read about in the paper, or catch on the radio, this hit home; close to home. This was not just a face on television or in the paper, this was someone that was part of my life, someone that I have known and loved since elementary school in Hingham.

Torri had been a student of the Charter School since last September when she transferred in as a freshman from Hingham Middle School. If you look back at photos from early last year, you probably won’t recognize Torri with her long light brown hair. Torri quickly became a part of the Charter School, a part that will never be lost. Torri was a loving girl, with an amazing heart and a sense of humor that will never be forgotten. Torri always seemed to be “there”, where ever you turned, with her camera and her cell phone saying something that made us all laugh. Torri didn’t waste a breath of her life. She cherished and captured every moment with a picture, a song, or drawing. I always knew that Torri had touched many people’s lives; that she has made an impact on so many, however, yesterday really showed how loved Torri was. Wednesday, May 17th, 2006 was a silent day at the South Shore Charter School. In the two years that I have attended this school, I have never seen a day so still-life, so full of tears and loss. Time stood still yesterday as we remembered Torri; our laughs, our smiles, and our cries. Some sat and talked, while most lost in memories and thoughts of “Torr”, and how our lives would now be changed forever.

Yesterday morning, in a visit to the school Torri’s mother (Lucy), heart-broken and teary looked me in the eye and said something that I will never forget; “she loved you guys”, well “Luce”, we loved her too. We will always love her; Torri will always be in our hearts and in our thoughts forever.

Dan Nardo, SSCPS Level VI

A child so young who passed through time with dreams not yet delivered

Forever Young a beauty laid to rest

As Mom reaches out and caresses her love

In her grieving moments of endless time

In Remembrance of Torri Wightman

May 20, 2006

by Tom Wightman (Torri’s Uncle)

Good morning,

On behalf of the Wightman Family, I would like to thank all of you for coming today to celebrate the life of Torri Wightman. Over the last few days, there has been such an overwhelming amount of love and support from family and friends that words cannot express the gratitude that Torri’s parents, Don and Lucy, feel. Last nights turnout at the Sullivan Funeral Home is a true testament of how much each one of us cared about Torri and her family.

I would like to thank some very special people who gave so much of themselves over the last several days. Jimmy Hussey, for his caring and gentle manner and who has always been there for Donny over the years; April and Joey Kramer who both epitomize the meaning of love and friendship by their caring and giving ways; and Debbie Calabro, whose compassion, understanding and love will never be forgotten.

Over the last several days, the newspapers have taken different slants on this tragic story. A story of a girl, like many teenagers before her, who was taken too soon. I am not sure why some tragedies make the headlines and some don’t. But today I would like to give my own headline on who Torri Wightman really was.

Victoria Ellen Wightman wore many hats during her short life. She was a daughter, sister, granddaughter, niece, cousin and friend. Torri loved life and constantly challenged it. She was inquisitive, caring, dramatic, and had a wonderful sense of humor. She saw the good in people and surrounded herself with a diverse group of friends. She spent many summer days at the cape with her grandparents and as a child she love trying to manipulate her aunts and uncle into buying things for her; and she usually got her own way.

Torri was the apple of her parent’s eye. She loved her dog Perry Winkle. Torri loved her older brother Donny and even though they were 10 years apart, she knew that she could always count on him. Donny recently became a police officer like his father and she was very proud of him. Although she never had a sister, her cousin Elise filled that role. They were more than cousins; they were friends - friends that could share everything together and never judged one another. The ultimate friendship. Torri spent many Sunday dinners and holidays at her Grandfather and Grammies house in Walpole. She was deeply loved by her cousins Billy, Bobby, Lindsey, David and James. Often, she was a weekend fixture at her Aunt Cindy and Uncle David’s home in Holliston. She had her Aunt Rhonda’s sense of humor and loved her Gramie Wightman’s family traditions, although she challenged those also. Torri learned how to be part of a family and what family meant. Always there for each other - no matter what.

She loved writing poetry and song lyrics. One of her favorite things was to play the guitar. She was an avid reader and photography buff. Torri loved to challenge the norm. Torri was an introvert to some and an extrovert to others. She was an Aerosmith fan and even traveled to Japan for one of their concerts. Her idol was Steven Tyler and knowing Torri, if she had her way, she probably would have taken over as lead singer for the band some day.

She loved simple things like her grandfathers homemade meatballs, a beautiful day and just being with her friends.

On Tuesday morning, Torri left for school just like any other day. Her dad dropped her off and went on his way. It was just another rainy day. At 10:30, Torri made a silly decision to take the rest of the morning off and she left school with friends. Everyone of us here today has made a silly decision or two in our life. At 11 am, Torri left this world for another. She left behind a father that would give his life for her - a father that was so truly dedicated to her. She also left a mother who has lost part of herself.

I have to believe that Torri is in a much happier place. All of the rains of the past week were just Gods tears because he knew he had to call her home and realized what an impact it would have on those that Torri would leave behind. She is writing her poetry and playing her guitar. She is looking down at each of us today and smiling knowing how much that she was loved.

As you leave here today, tell someone that you love them because you never know when you will be called home; buckle your seat belt because it could save your life; and finally say a prayer for all those other young people that were with Torri on Tuesday. No one meant to intentionally hurt anyone - it was just an accident.

For all of Torri’s friends that are here today, give yourself a good cry. But tomorrow, feel the sun on your face, smell the flowers, laugh, love and dance. Begin your day living life to its fullest. Be the most that you can be. Make decisions that will make your parents proud. Be the potential that Torri can never be. That is what she would want each of you to do.

So this is my headline of what Torri Wightman was all about. My story probably isn’t sensationalized enough to sell newspapers or be an enticing headline story on the ten o’clock news. However, this is the true Torri that the newspapers and TV left out. And, for doing that I say shame on them.

As I was speaking with my brother Don the other night, about what it is like to lose a child and why things seem so senseless, I told him children are just a gift from God. They are not the child’s parents to keep and God can call them home at anytime. He looked at me and said “Maybe God just needed a guitar player”. And, maybe it is just as simple as that.

So as we bring you to your final resting place today, always remember that we love you Torri - you will remain forever young in our minds and we will miss you - but always know that you will grow old with us in our hearts. God bless you.

when I heard it in school today I couldnt believe it. I didnt believe it. Torri Wightman, it could never happen to her. I still dont see how it could happen. I know we had our arguments but you are such a good person that those petty fights never mattered. do you remember throwing rocks at my neighbors pool? that was the first time id ever gotten in trouble. you brought out the rebel in me. it was wonderful. Torri, you helped shape me, as a person. you gave me guts as weird as that sounds. I am so sorry I havent kept in touch with you after you moved. I havent even gotten to know the people who live in your house. I think they have little kids. remember when we broke open the beanie babies and jumped on the trampoline with the beads? that was so much fun, and then we didnt understand why your mom was mad. and your play house. that was amazing. I thought that was the coolest thing id ever seen. and your drumset from aerosmith. I loved being your friend. I am so distraught. ive never lost someone close to me, or who was close to me. i hope it was painless. i know your better where you are now. Ive tried to be there, where you are now. I never fully realized the effects it would have on others lives. I hope no one else reads this. Only you. I know you can. and will. I admire you for leaving this town and changing your life as you have. I know it hasnt been by your choice but honestly, you have gone so far with your art and photography. I'm stuck here, soulless, sleepwalking through each day. I wish we could switch places, you, with so much potential could go on living and fufill your dreams, making the world a better place. I would gladly do that for you. I miss you, this shouldnt have happened to you. Its not fair. I just cant comprehend it. Maybe some things arent meant to be understood. I love you.

from an anonymous friend

Torri was an amazing girl in every way possible. She was beautiful, intelligent, talented and hilarious. You could be having the worst day of your life and she would find some way to make you laugh. All she ever wanted was for the people around her to be happy. And when you were with Torri, there’s no way that you couldn’t be. She’d walk down the hall and yell “Hey girlfriend!!” and without hesitation, you knew it was her.

Torri had an incredible smile and a laugh that you couldn’t miss. So many memories of her stand out in my mind. In particular, it was our music video. We drove around for hours going to different locations to shoot the “documentary of our lives.” We were just a bunch of kids, fooling around, having a good time. Little did we know how impressive this piece of work would turn out to be. Torri was extremely talented with her computer skills. That very night after our scenes were shot Torri called me at least eight times, each time saying “Almost done Laur, almost done.” The excitement in her voice was so wonderful. When the video was finished we felt so accomplished. Everyone loved it, and we had something of ours that was untouchable.

She was so full of energy. She always wanted to try new things. Boston was indeed one of her favorite places to visit. Most of the time, we would go in a group and of course, none of us had money. But we’d take the T anyways, and walk around, and take pictures, and laugh. But that was okay with us, because whenever we were together, we were content and happy. We’d sing songs on the train and obviously bother the people around us, without a care at all. We lived in our own little world, together.

Torri always had something to say, but she always had the perfect timing. She always knew the right things to say to make you smile. She’d look at you with her breathtaking green eyes and you’d know that everything was okay. Torri will be greatly missed but never forgotten. Her presence will live on forever. Not a day will go by without the thought of her on my mind. But this is not goodbye my friend, it’s just see you later. And I will. I promise. I swear. I love you with all my heart, forever and always.

Remembering Torri
By Seth Jacobson / Correspondent
Thursday, May 25, 2006
L ast year, while working as an English teacher at South Shore Charter Public School in Norwell, I decided to place a weird book order. I elected to read “On the Road,” by Jack Kerouac with my students, which is not your typical classroom text. The book is full of stream-of-consciousness passages and describes strange encounters with unique people, wild parties and traveling around the country without a worry. I wasn’t sure any of the kids were going to like it, because it was so out of the ordinary and complex.

But one of them, a bright young student named Victoria “Torri” Wightman, came up to me after class one day after we started reading it and said, “Hey J, I just wanted to tell you I think this is a really cool book.”

Many of my students simply referred to me as “J” and Torri was one of them. In fact, she was one of the first students to call me by that name. In any case, Torri put me at ease that day. I was worried all of my students were going to think I was crazy for ordering the novel.

Last week, Torri died in a car accident at 16 years old and those who knew her are still trying to come to grips with that. I still can’t believe someone so promising, so full of life, can be here one second and gone the next. I believe Torri will always be with those who loved her and I know she will stay in my heart as long as I live.

She was a student who accepted me as a new teacher and gave me the confidence to learn how to operate in the classroom. She would always keep me updated on my progress by coming up to me after class and saying, “You’re doing awesome, J” or “I have no idea what you’re talking about, J.”

In English class, she always read aloud when called upon and she would often have a joke to crack when she was done with whatever passage she was reading. And she never missed a photo opportunity with her picture-taking cell phone, even if it happened to be in the middle of class. “Hey J, smile!” she would say, pointing her phone in my general direction as I sat at my desk, following along with what my students were reading aloud. And I would smile, because Torri was never a distraction. She was just very entertaining and I could’ve never gotten aggravated with her if I tried.

Photography was something in which Torri really expressed an interest. She was also in my journalism class, and of course, she was one of my three photographers, along with her friends, Devin and Eliza. That class was held three days a week in two-hour increments, so those in the journalism workshop spent a lot of time together last year. Torri would always walk in at the beginning of class and tell me she was going to take candid photos around the school. And she did. Torri always came back with great shots. She really seemed to have the knowledge as to what constituted a great photograph. She was also a great writer, which she illustrated through articles and things she wrote in English class. She had her own personal folder of writing as well, which was quite astounding.

Torri was just an amazing kid in everything she did. She was a great conversationalist and quick with her wit. Sometimes, I couldn’t tell if she was joking about something or not because of her subtle mannerisms. But as soon as her smile lit up, I could always tell the joke was on me and I didn’t mind.

I will miss Torri but like I said, she’ll always be with those who loved her. Even though I was her teacher, I think she taught me more than I could’ve ever taught her. I know that sounds cliché, but it’s absolutely true.

My heart goes out to Torri’s mom, dad and the rest of her family, along with her many friends.

She was a bright star and her light will never burn out. We can all be sure of that.

Seth Jacobson worked at the South Shore Charter Public School last year, and was previously the editor of the Norwell Mariner newspaper.

The unbearable loss of all that possibility
By Margery Eagan
Boston Herald Columnist

Thursday, May 18, 2006 - Updated: 01:33 AM EST

W hen you’re a reporter you interview many parents who’ve just lost their children. Rarely had you met the child who died.

I met Torri Wightman three months ago when I interviewed her about growing up with a mother who was perhaps the most famous exotic dancer ever in this town. This is what I remember: the coltish, easy grace of a then 15-year-old, 5-feet 9-inches tall; green eyed, a shaggy mop of hair, bangs hanging in her eyes. She wore, according to modeling photos she posed for but never much pursued, size 8 shoes and size 2 jeans, junior.

I remember the tentative looks between mother and daughter when Torri told of finding incriminating pictures of her mother, by accident, at age 11. I also remember when she said she was all right with her mother’s past life, even at moments when someone would say they remembered “Princess Cheyenne.” Did she mean all this, or say it to please?

Yet I remember too how fiercely she defended what she saw as cruel attacks against her mother. Lucy Wightman, then and now, has faced tough and repeated scrutiny from Fox 25 News. She has admitted practicing psychotherapy without a license. Now she faces multiple charges, possibly even jail.

I remember Torri’s embarrassment when Lucy bragged about her daughter’s considerable talents as a painter, songwriter and musician, like her father Donnie, a former Boston cop and now a manager for Aeorsmith. When they posed for a picture, mother’s arms wrapped tight around her girl, I remember thinking too how visceral the bond, no matter what, between mother and her only child.

Yesterday Lucy Wightman stood sobbing and rocking back and forth on the grass outside the Hingham home where Torri lived with her dad. Across her chest she held meticulously framed pictures of Torri and paintings by Torri and a photo of her soccer team when she was 6 or 7.

“I want to learn about psychologist,” the child’s hand wrote. “I want to learn about cats . . . dogs. My dads a polic (sic) man. I like fish.”

Lucy also held Torri’s framed drawing of a house: “warm, cossy,(sic) white, noisy, clean,” she wrote.

Lucy Wightman, herself an only child estranged from her parents and divorced from Torri’s father, held these pictures and rocked and sobbed and repeated over and over, “I just want this not to be true. . . .I just want her back. . . . I want to hold her.”

Mike Munhall, director of Torri’s charter school, said yesterday Torri apparently slipped out of school during a 10:30 mid-morning break and met up with three girlfriends to play hooky. She was pronounced dead about 11 a.m. when the Oldsmobile Cutlass carrying her and her friends, in heavy rain, hydroplaned into the path of an oncoming minivan.

“She’s very bright,” Munhill said. “And accepting of everybody. She has a serenity about her, and was trying to figure out how to reach her potential.”

When you’re a reporter you interview many parents who’ve just lost their children. What you learn is that it is impossible to capture a child’s life because the child, as Munhill put it, is still all potential, possibility, paths not yet taken.

What you also learn, as crass as this sounds, is that it matters how a child dies. If your child dies of cancer, you can join the cancer bereavement group, perhaps raise money for research. If your child is killed by a drunken driver, you can join Mothers Against Drunk Driving and fight to change the laws. If your child is gunned down on Dorchester’s mean streets, you can join other mothers who’ve lost children to guns and find purpose in bringing peace.

But if your child is killed in a senseless accident in the rain, there is no group, no cause, no crusade, “It’s nobody’s fault,” Lucy Wightman said yesterday on the grass. “But what’s the meaning? Three seconds in one direction, three seconds in the other. A little faster, slower. It could’ve changed everything.”

But as it is Torri Wightman was born March 24, 1990, at Quincy Hospital, the beloved daughter of Donnie and Lucy Wightman. She died May 16, the anniversary of her parents’ marriage, on a wet road less than two months past her 16th birthday. She was a young woman of enormous possibility and potential who “has no possibilities” her mother said, “anymore.”