It wasn't easy for Christopher Roslon's parents to go into New Haven Superior Court last week (June 17) and face James D. Jordan, the man who lost control of his car and crashed, killing their 18-year-old son.
But Elaine Oja-Roslon was there with her typewritten statement, even though she was too upset to read it. (She had her cousin, Lee Skalkos do the reading.) And Mark Roslon was there, bearing witness in silence. Later he would e-mail me a poem he wrote for his son.
As I reported in the Register, Jordan, 24, was sentenced to serve just eight months for second-degree manslaughter with a motor vehicle, and that's because Judge Earl Richards listened to the wishes of the victim's parents. Oja-Roslon thought 6-12 months was enough; Mark Roslon thought it was pointless to send Jordan to prison at all. Roslon thought some guidance program would be preferable. You don't hear this type of non-vengeful thought very often in court.
Oja-Roslon's statement was poignant and clearly had an effect on Richards. Part of it got cut out of my news story, a nice anecdote about Chris when he was 8 years old and the family was at their house in Maine. Here is the missing part:
"Chris and I were outside in our big field of grass, lying down, looking up at the brilliant stars in the sky...We stayed for hours because the stars were extraordinary that night, a crystal clear dark sky with a shower of bright lights. We talked about the sky, the Milky Way and the northern lights for what seems like eternity and I had one of the best nights of my life..."
Oja-Roslon said now she wonders if Chris is one of those brilliant stars in the sky and that she feels it is "an eternity without him."
Mark Roslon's poem, "My," said, in part: "You are and will always be with me.
"You are and will always be
My son,
My friend,
My Chris.
My oh my...
My Christopher."
After my story of the sentencing appeared in the Register, I heard from Laurence Brenner, who knew Chris very well. Brenner spoke of his intelligence, skill as a bass guitarist and great potential.
Brenner also noted Chris took the unusual precaution when he got into the car that night in Woodbridge of riding in the back seat with his seatbelt on. Unfortunately, tragically, when the car spun off the road, it turned over in mid-air and hit a tree through the window, which smashed into Chris' head.
Oja-Roslon later told me that Chris' friends rushed to the scene, unbuckled him and pulled him to the ground, where the police and ambulance workers found him.
Oja-Roslon also told me that Chris and Jordan were not friends, as Judge Richards thought. This was the first time they had met. Chris had gone there to see if he could get a job at a store where Jordan's girlfriend was a manager. Apparently Jordan had a fight with the woman and took off, too fast.
Blood tests showed Jordan had also been drinking, a lot.
Jordan was remorseful in court and he apologized. As I reported, his life hasn't been easy, marked by its own tragedies.
This was one of the saddest days I've seen in a courtroom.

Longevity at this ol' paper enables me to sometimes reconnect with the fascinating folks I have profiled in decades past.
This happened recently when Joe Barna called me. I had met him 30 years ago when he first called to report he and his Keeshond dog, Zonker, liked to ride the Wildcat roller coaster at Lake Compounce Amusement Park in Bristol.
Naturally I took him up on his offer to go for a ride. We spent a pleasant day out there; I had never before seen a dog ride a coaster. And he loved it, or at least so it seemed by his buoyant expression and body language.
Well, Zonker is gone. I also wrote his obituary, in 1987. He was 14 and the heat just got to him on a summer's day.
Barna has a new Keeshond now named Inu (which means dog in Japanese). This one doesn't ride coasters, but that's OK.
You already know this if you read my column last Sunday. Barna called me to let me know he is writing a book about Zonker. He also surprised me when we got together for our recent interview by telling me he believes he was the first person in the U.S. to see Sputnik, the Russian satellite, in October 1957 in his backyard in Vermont.
Who knows? Maybe it's true. Barna did insist he has made a lifelong habit of never lying just so that now, when he finally has started to talk about this in public, people might believe him.
Anyway, the purpose of this blog is to note that the many people I have profiled through the years should feel free to reconnect with me, especially if they have a follow-up idea. It was a kick to see the Barna of age 60, after first seeing him when he was 30. Guess what, I'm 30 years older too. It happens.
I also wanted to include one of the funny and interesting things Barna told me last week, which I couldn't find room for in the column. He said he has tried to live his life by keeping in mind a book he saw long ago: "Damn Everything but the Circus." He said the point of the book is this: "Damn everything that's dull, gray and lifeless!"
I agree: that's a pretty good way to approach life.