Laura Brooks. We worked together at FlightSafety. Laura was young, in her early thirties, and taught basic indoctrination classes for airlines at FlightSafety in St Louis. She wasn't glamorous or outgoing. A plain Catholic girl from a Catholic family in Belleville IL. In fact, her mother was a Catholic nun. She was friendly and a great person, and she had the same aspirations we all had- to get a job flying airplanes. She did flight instructing at the nearby Scott AFB Flying Club. One day, November 19, 1996, she went along as copilot on a flight in a KingAir 90 to build her multi-engine flight time. The PIC was a retired TWA Captain and Air Force Colonel. They flew to Quincy, picked up some passengers, flew them to Tulsa and later returned to Quincy and dropped off the passengers. Just before sunset on that cool fall evening, while taking off they collided with another plane landing on a crossing runway. Both planes burst into flames. Laura and her pilot tried to get out but only made it halfway through the cabin before smoke overcame them both. And just like that, another good pilot I knew died a violent death.
July, 1997. Hot as Hades. The temperature at mid-day was pushing a hundred degrees, and the humidity was brutal. I was off from work and had picked this day to go pay my respects to Laura. I'd felt bad ever since she died, bad that I didn't know her better, sad for such a young life to end so harshly. People die every day, but Laura hit close to my heart for some reason. I drove out in the blinding heat to Belleville where she was buried in the Green Mount Catholic Cemetery. I stopped at the 7-11 across the street and got a rose for the grave. Brutally hot and humid. I drove across the street to the office where the nice lady showed me on a map where Laura was. It was a newer section, out in the sun with few trees. I drove down the gravel paths and reached the spot. I climbed the rise and soon I found her marker. Laura Brooks. Died Nov 19 1996. I stood there deep in my thoughts, talking with Laura quietly. Soon though, I came to realize how cool it was. I looked up at the cloudless sky and the bright sun, but the temperature felt like the mid seventies. No humidity either, it was like a cool spring morning. But this was July. I thought a cold front must have moved in, bringing a break to this terrible heat. At last! I stood there in the cool air with my thoughts of Laura. Finally I said good bye, got back in my car and drove to the 7-11 for a cold drink for the drive home. Stepped out of the car and was greeted with the same hot blast of heat from before. Temperature near a hundred, brutal humidity. I got my Coke and then stood outside for a minute, looking back across at the cemetery, searching for an explanation yet finding only one. Only one made sense. Laura had been there with me.
Still today, when that sixth sense starts telling me something is wrong, I know its Laura, or Buddy, whispering in my ear, "Dave, this isn't right." I sit up and look, listen and check things out. Maybe it's obvious, maybe not. Sometimes I find something, most times not. But I know Laura is near, keeping me awake, aware and safe. I can't believe it's been twenty years already. It's time to go pay Laura another visit and say hello.
