Jill Richardson Perez and her daughter, Ashleigh Coons, stand in front of a cross in Perez's front yard in Broadalbin, New York. Perez's son Matthew Coons was one of 20 people killed in a limousine crash in Schoharie, New York, on Oct. 6, 2018. Georgie Silvarole/USA TODAY Network New York

The monumental weight of what's missing is found in the smallest details of a family's new reality.

There's kale bursting from Tom and Linda King's garden out back — the girls, all four of them, used to like it. There's not much appetite for it now.

There's the bedroom two of their daughters once slept in, filled now with toys for grandchildren Tom and Linda host more often.

In the corner of the living room, there's the curio cabinet, and the photos of their four youngest daughters.

And their daughters' four small urns.

In one photograph, Abby, 34, has a pensive gaze. The urn that holds her remains is a deep shade of blue.

For Mary, 33, a forest green. Thirty-one-year-old Allison's urn is dark blue and covered in butterflies. Amy's, creamy white. She was 29.

“Every day we think of these guys," Tom King says, his eyes fixed on the cabinet in the corner. "It’s one of those things. It’s sort of like the thing when you go to bed and say your prayers, you basically think of them.”

Show caption Hide caption Four small urns are placed near photos of each one of Tom and Linda King's four daughters who died on Oct. 6, 2018 in the... Four small urns are placed near photos of each one of Tom and Linda King's four daughters who died on Oct. 6, 2018 in the limousine crash in Schoharie, New York. The curio cabinet is nestled in the livingroom of the Kings' home in Amsterdam, New York, and is a small, modest memorial honoring their daughters: Abigail Jackson, Mary Dyson, Allison King and Amy Steenburg. Georgie Silvarole/USA TODAY Network New York

On Oct. 6, 2018, those four sisters piled into a limousine with husbands and friends for a trip to celebrate Amy's 30th birthday at a Cooperstown brewery. That vehicle later barreled down a hill in the rural town of Schoharie in upstate New York and smashed into a ditch by the Apple Barrel Country Store & Cafe.

All 17 passengers, the driver and two men in the store parking lot died — the nation's worst transportation accident in a decade.

Many of the victims were in their 20s and 30s; most grew up together in and around Amsterdam, the small former mill city on the banks of the Mohawk River about 40 miles northwest of Albany. They were teachers, veterans, the parents of small children and the grown children of parents who have spent the past year grappling with how to live without them.

Recent interviews by the USA TODAY Network New York with the victims’ families, friends and coworkers reveal how varied and painful those paths have been.

One year ago, a limousine crash in Schoharie claimed the lives of 17 passengers, the driver and two pedestrians. Lost in the tragedy were sisters, brothers and married couples. One passenger died on his birthday, while another was celebrating her forthcoming birthday. Read their stories

Many of the families declined comment, saying the grief is still too raw to discuss publicly. Civil lawsuits and a criminal case complicate their ability to talk freely.

Some have raised their voices for new laws to prevent another limo accident like this; others retreated and asked for privacy. For some, everyday routines were thrown into upheaval; for others, things stayed largely the same.

All want answers. Investigations are still under way into why the limo lost control on a clear Saturday afternoon and hurtled into the ditch, killing everyone almost instantly.

Above all, they are faced with the invisible burden of carrying the sudden loss of a close loved one: It fractures the future, compounds responsibilities, clouds fond memories.

The question haunts them, an ugly and unrelenting ghost: Why? Why? Why?

Schoharie Limo Crash: One year later, families grapple with new reality A year after a limousine crash in Schoharie, New York left 20 dead, communities and families are still figuring out their new way of life. Georgie Silvarole, Rochester Democrat and Chronicle

There have been kind words, meals and memorials. The legacies of the victims have materialized in physical ways: photographs on walls, a wooden bench by a softball field, a tree outside an office building.

Some of those who lost loved ones have found a small comfort in turning to each other for support. But no one is any less heartbroken.

“It’s just an ongoing struggle," said Ed Halse, who lost his 26-year-old daughter, Amanda, in the crash.

‘We live for them’

With 10 grandkids in his blended family, Tom King doesn’t have time to think of much else. Three of them lost their parents in the crash; they're with grandparents on their fathers' sides now.

Show caption Hide caption Allison King, Abby Jackson, Amy Steenburg and Mary Dyson were all killed in the Oct. 6, 2018, limousine crash in Schoharie that claimed 20 lives.... Allison King, Abby Jackson, Amy Steenburg and Mary Dyson were all killed in the Oct. 6, 2018, limousine crash in Schoharie that claimed 20 lives. They were sisters. Allison King, 31, was one of four SUNY Plattsburgh graduates who died in the crash. She worked at Hill & Markes Inc. Vanessa Wheeler and Eric Rustin / All Occasions Photography

Reminders of King's four youngest daughters — and sons-in-law Rob Dyson, 34; Adam Jackson, 34; and Axel Steenburg, 29, who also died — come often.

In the couple’s living room, a small table is crowded with photo frames holding joyous wedding shots of their kids. Even a large framed piece of art on the wall summons a memory: Years ago, the girls accidentally threw a lemon through its glass.

They replaced the shattered piece before their parents returned — “but they weren’t smart enough to hide the bills,” Tom says, chuckling.

The family has kept their grief private for the most part, granting only a few interviews. For Tom, it is better to focus on what’s ahead than wallow in what has been taken away.

Listen to USA TODAY Network journalists Sarah Taddeo and Georgie Silvarole as they report on the fatal limousine crash one year later.





A year ago, three of his grandchildren became orphans. He needs to be there for them.

“I certainly wish they were back. I’m proud of my children, and I don’t mind talking about them,” he says. “The biggest thing we’ve told people is we have grandchildren, and we live for them. We try to do what we can to help them in whatever way we can.”

‘The devil’s hard at work’

Aubrey Steenburg, 11, is making her grampy a bracelet.

She’s home sick from school and spending the day at her grandparents’ house in Gloversville, near Amsterdam. She lives nearby with her mom, Kim Steenburg.

Standing in the driveway in flowered leggings and a hoodie memorializing the crash victims, she asks what color bracelet he wants.

Show caption Hide caption Aubrey Steenburg, 11, asks her grandfather Dutch Andrews to pick out colors he'd like for a rubber band bracelet. Aubrey was home sick from school... Aubrey Steenburg, 11, asks her grandfather Dutch Andrews to pick out colors he'd like for a rubber band bracelet. Aubrey was home sick from school on Monday, Sept. 16, 2018 and spent the day with her grandfather. Rich Steenburg, Aubrey's father, was one of 20 people killed in the Schoharie limousine crash on Oct. 6, 2018. Georgie Silvarole/USA TODAY Network New York

“Boy's colors,” answers Dutch Andrews, 61. Aubrey plucks blue rubber bands from her kit to weave into a stretchy piece of neon jewelry.

Aubrey's dad, Richard Steenburg, died in the crash along with his brother Axel. Their mother and Aubrey's grandmother, Janet Steenburg, is Andrews' companion.

Show caption Hide caption Axel Steenburg, left, and Rich Steenburg were among the 20 killed in a limousine crash in Schoharie on Oct. 6, 2018. The older brother of Axel... Axel Steenburg, left, and Rich Steenburg were among the 20 killed in a limousine crash in Schoharie on Oct. 6, 2018. The older brother of Axel Steenburg, Rich, 34, worked at Global Foundries and was the father of a 10-year-old daughter and a 14-year-old stepson. Vanessa Wheeler and Eric Rustin / All Occasions Photography

“She copes with it. But she doesn’t talk about it,” Andrews says of his granddaughter. “(We do) anything she wants. If she wanted McDonald’s, I’d go get it for her right now.”

The bracelet is snug on his wrist, blue contrasting his tan, weatherworn skin. He hugs Aubrey, thanks her for the gift. If she wants him to wear it, he will.

Andrews is retired from his job as a tooling mover at Keymark in Fonda, Montgomery County. Now, he spends his days tinkering with a fleet of hot rods in his driveway. He’s partial to the 1968 Impala; it needs a paint job, he says, but it runs incredibly clean.

Nothing, though, is as precious as the gray 1971 Chevelle, which bears the sweeping image of an owl in flight encircled by 16 faces and the number “98.”

All 17 limo passengers are memorialized there. The “98” was the jersey number of Patrick Cushing, who died at 31 alongside girlfriend Amanda Halse, 26.

The owl mirrors a tattoo Axel had inked across his chest. Janet Steenburg had the car customized, and the couple drives it all the time. Steenburg testified at a legislative hearing in June calling for stronger limo laws.

Show caption Hide caption Dutch Andrews' and Janet Steenburg's 1971 Chevrolet Chevelle has an illustrated decal wrapped on its back end that honors the lives lost in the Oct.... Dutch Andrews' and Janet Steenburg's 1971 Chevrolet Chevelle has an illustrated decal wrapped on its back end that honors the lives lost in the Oct. 6, 2018 limousine crash in Schoharie, New York. The decal shows the faces of 16 friends who died in the crash spread out across the wings of an owl, and includes the number 98 as an ode to another victim's jersey number. Georgie Silvarole/USA TODAY Network New York

For Andrews, who spent more than a decade helping Janet raise her three boys, the cars provide only a temporary distraction from heartache. He loved Axel, Rich and their brother Eric like his own sons.

“If I hear a song on the radio, they just pop in my mind,” he says. “They’re on my mind real heavy. They’re great guys.”

He trails off. He hasn’t really talked about this with anyone except Janet; it’s hard to know what to say or what to do.

Losses have piled up in the past two years: the two boys, his mother, a brother-in-law, several friends, two dogs. He's seen a lot of death in his life, he says, but Janet's strength has astounded him.

“The devil’s hard at work, robbing everybody for their loved ones,” he says. “These families, they’re super people.”

'You try to be tough'

Show caption Hide caption Matthew Coons and his girlfriend Savannah Bursese were among 20 people killed in a limo crash in Schonarie on Oct. 6, 2018. Coons, 27, who... Matthew Coons and his girlfriend Savannah Bursese were among 20 people killed in a limo crash in Schonarie on Oct. 6, 2018. Coons, 27, who served in the U.S. Army, and recently started working in the landscaping business. Bursese, 23, who was studying to be a lawyer, had been dating Coons for two years and they lived with their four dogs in Johnstown, Fulton County. Provided

Sitting at her kitchen table on a September evening, Jill Richardson Perez spreads out more than a dozen photos of her son, 27-year-old Matthew Coons. He loved weightlifting, she says, touching a photo where he’s flexing in a red cut-off tank.

She likes talking about him, telling stories about his life and his accomplishments. But those conversations are rare with her three other adult children. Her oldest son can’t talk about Matt’s death, and her youngest son is still too angry to have a conversation about it.

Ashleigh Coons, Perez’s daughter, is the most vocal, but it’s hard on her, too, she said. On this September evening, Coons and her 5-year-old daughter, Quinn, stop by the house. They're laughing as they walk into the kitchen.

Quinn sees the photos on the table, and her chipper voice goes silent. Her face crumples, and she snatches one of the pictures up. She holds it to her chest, little hands clenching the photo tightly and shoves her face into her grandmother’s side.

Perez places a gentle hand on Quinn’s head and asks her if she’d like to look at some different photos instead. Coons looks over but doesn't react. Instead, she calmly says her daughter cries a lot at school.

“They can’t figure out what’s wrong with her, and then they get her to calm down and talk, and she’s crying about missing her Uncle Matt,” Coons says. “I couldn’t count the times that I’ve had those phone calls.”

Coons still lives in the house she shared with her brother. Her two young daughters live there, too, and with two big dogs, it’s been a challenge to find a better place for all of them.

“Now I come home and I hate being there,” Coons said. “You try to be strong and you try to be tough and not show them that it’s killing you inside … but how can you really make them feel better?”

Copy text Copy this quote's text The quote has been copied Tweet Facebook LinkedIn Share this article on LinkedIn Reddit Share this article on Reddit Ashleigh Coons You try to be strong and you try to be tough and not show them that it’s killing you inside … but how can you really make them feel better? Quote icon

For Perez, there’s plenty of little, unexpected moments that drag her back into reality. In a recent training session at her workplace, the presenter gave an example of when someone might need to use employee benefits to see a counselor.

“And she goes, ‘What about those people that were in the crash in Schoharie?’ And like half the people in the room just turned and looked at me,” Perez said. “I was OK, and then all of the sudden the tears just started.”

Show caption Hide caption Ashleigh Coons, left, and her mom, Jill Richardson Perez, hold a photo of Matthew Coons while standing in Perez's front yard on Wednesday, Sept. 18,... Ashleigh Coons, left, and her mom, Jill Richardson Perez, hold a photo of Matthew Coons while standing in Perez's front yard on Wednesday, Sept. 18, 2019. Matthew Coons was one of 20 people killed in the Oct. 6, 2018 limousine crash in Schoharie, New York. Georgie Silvarole/USA TODAY Network New York

Everything still feels raw, but she’s trying hard to find effective ways to cope. She starts each day with a prayer and a reading from her daily grief book — it puts her in a good mindset, even if it doesn’t last for the entire day.

She’s thankful for the cards, the prayer shawls, the small tokens strangers send her. She’s proud of her son’s legacy.

“Now it’s a year later, and people talk about it all the time,” Perez said. “You would think, by now, that I would expect it. But I don’t, and it just slaps you.”

'We have each other's back'

Patrick Cushing, 31, would have been the best man at his older brother Justin's wedding last month. Adam Jackson, Justin's best friend, would have been a groomsman.

Show caption Hide caption Amanda Halse and Patrick Cushing, who were dating, were among 20 killed in a limousine crash on Saturday, Oct. 6, 2018, in Schoharie, N.Y. Halse,... Amanda Halse and Patrick Cushing, who were dating, were among 20 killed in a limousine crash on Saturday, Oct. 6, 2018, in Schoharie, N.Y. Halse, 26, was a waitress in Watervliet near Albany, and Cushing, 31, worked in the New York state Senate. Courtesy: Cushing family

When Justin Cushing, 35, recited his vows, he chose not to replace the two men who would have been standing beside him. It was his way of honoring them. They were irreplaceable.

"It's heartbreaking for us, but I give Justin so much credit for saying, 'I can't replace my best friend and brother, and I'm not going to,'" said Kevin Cushing, 63, their father.

Patrick would have given a toast at the reception. Hannah Cushing, 29, Patrick and Justin's sister, gave one instead in front of friends and family, including their mother, Cynthia Fitzgerald.

It was a reminder of just how much things have changed for the family. These days, they lean on a private Facebook group of the victims' parents for support.

Someone is "always having a really poor day, a difficult day," Kevin Cushing said.

"Everyone has everyone else’s best interests in the forefront," he said. "And everyone knows that we have each other’s back.”

Others have found different ways to honor and to mourn.

A wooden bench sits between two maple trees alongside Field 1 at Nott Road Park, a collection of suburban fields tucked in the woods just west of Albany.

It's 100 feet or so from third base, the position Patrick would man for Hooya, a beer-league softball team with highlighter-green jerseys that often plays at the park.

Cushing was a superb athlete, competing for Team USA at the Dodgeball World Cup in England and at Madison Square Garden. He filled much of his downtime playing recreational softball in the summer.

Show caption Hide caption Kevin Cushing sits at a bench honoring his late son, Patrick Cushing, at Nott Road Park in Guilderland, New York on Monday, Sept. 16, 2019.... Kevin Cushing sits at a bench honoring his late son, Patrick Cushing, at Nott Road Park in Guilderland, New York on Monday, Sept. 16, 2019. The bench is right next to third base on the field where Patrick Cushing played in his last game before his death on Oct. 6, 2018. Georgie Silvarole/USA TODAY Network New York

His teammates had the bench dedicated to him in June, when they organized a day-long softball tournament that raised $3,500 for youth sports programs in Amsterdam, Cushing's hometown.

"In honor of #98 Patrick K. Cushing," a golden plaque in the middle of the bench reads. "Forever friend & teammate."

In mid-September, four of his teammates — Olivia Fagan, Kyle Unser, John Fanniff and Stephanie Johnston — gathered at the bench with Patrick's family at the USA TODAY Network New York's request.

For an hour, they took turns squeezing in shoulder-to-shoulder, swapping stories about Patrick and his "ninja-like" agility, his upbeat demeanor, his music tastes, and the void his death has left in their lives.

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"He was infectiously positive," said Fagan, a tournament organizer who played softball and dodgeball with Cushing for nine years. "He wanted the best for every one of his teammates and everyone around him, regardless of whether you were playing a sport or not. You just felt that. He had an energy about him."

"It was always better when he was around," Unser said. "Any game he was at, it was instantly better."

'The silent leader'

On the night before the crash, Amanda Rivenburg sent out an email to her staff at Living Resources, a company in the Albany area that aids people with disabilities.

Show caption Hide caption Amanda Rivenburg, 29, was one of 20 people killed in a limousine crash on Saturday, Oct. 6, 2018, in the rural New York town of... Amanda Rivenburg, 29, was one of 20 people killed in a limousine crash on Saturday, Oct. 6, 2018, in the rural New York town of Schoharie. Rivenburg was an assistant director at Living Resources Corp., which helps people with disabilities. Courtesy: Living Resources Corporation

"Just before she left on Friday, it was, 'Hey guys, I want you to have a great weekend. Remember we are going to put our new billing system in place Monday morning, so I’m all excited about that. I’ll be here with you to get that going. Have a great weekend,'" her boss, Frank Prevratil, recalled.

"And that was the last email."

It was textbook Amanda: Compassionate but strong, a collaborator who stood out for her leadership. She initially wanted to be a veterinarian, her mother, Donna, said, but then decided to help people with disabilities.

"She liked to be there for people and do what she could to help them," Donna recalled.

At 29, she was already an assistant manager at the agency, and Prevratil figured she would succeed him when he retired.

Now he's still trying to process that's she gone. He points to the corner of his desk where she would often work as they traded ideas and tasks.

The company honors her memory with an annual award, the Amanda Riverburg Phoenix award, that is given to an employee who exemplifies her work ethic. They planted a tree in her memory outside the office.

Prevratil says he tries to incorporate her caring management style into his own life, a kind of way to keep her legacy alive.

Frank Prevratil, Amanda Rivenburg's boss at Living Resources, talks about how her death has affected both himself and the company as a whole on Tuesday, Sept. 17, 2019. Georgie Silvarole/USA TODAY Network New York

He stares down at his desk.

"There is no closure when something like this happens," he says.

Part of him, like the families, wants more answers about the crash. Why were they traveling on a back road when Route 88 was a more direct route to Cooperstown? Why did the limo crash? Who is responsible?

More than once he has sat at his office computer, staring at the GPS route.

"And I’ve said to myself, 'Why were they there? It doesn’t make any sense.'"

Ultimately, he knows no amount of questioning will bring them back. "All we are left to do," he says, "is cope with it."

'Savor every moment'

Amid the joyous cacophony of capturing family wedding photos last June, new bride Erin McGowan told her photographer she wanted some alone time with her new husband in front of the camera.

Longtime wedding photographer Louis Torres of Clifton Park took Erin and husband Shane out to the tranquil white footbridge at The Bridge Walk in Perth, near Amsterdam. Relax, he encouraged them, and soak in this moment.

Those private photos at the bridge turned out to be the "money shots," he said: Erin and Shane, smiling cheek to cheek.

Wedding photos of Erin and Shane McGowan, of Amsterdam, placed at the crash site. They were married in June 2018. Provided, Louis Torres Photography

They were some of the last photos they'd have taken before the crash that claimed both their lives.

“They had a real relationship,” said Torres, who remembers the couple laughing and joking together on their big day despite the typical wedding hubbub.

He visited the crash site several times after the crash and spotted his own photos as part of the memorial to the McGowans. One of their engagement photos hangs in his office.

The photos serve as tangible reminders of the lives lost. But the memories, Torres knows, are just as real, and just as lasting.

“I do look at every couple now and I kind of suggest to them to savor every moment,” he says. “You never know what could happen a day from now, a week from now.”