Making Dustin’s life count

After losing grandson to drugs and alcohol, woman educates teens about the danger

Dustin Babcock is dead. The 18-year-old's heart stopped on Oct. 1 last year after a late night of partying with prescription drugs and alcohol.

Cause of death listed in his autopsy report: "Toxic effects of Tramadol," a drug prescribed for pain.

Manner of death: "Accidental."

No one believes Dustin wanted to die. Days before his death he had written letters to family and friends admitting and regretting the many poor choices he had made. He wrote that he had rededicated his life to God.

But Dustin did die.

Nedra Babcock cannot change that. But neither can she let her grandson, whom she adopted and raised as her own, die a meaningless death.

So began the Dustin Babcock Foundation (www.dustinbabcock.com), through which 69-year-old Nedra shares Dustin's story. She also is developing a scholarship program for struggling youth to get an education.

Nedra recently told Dustin's story and read his letters to teenagers at the Youth Services Tulsa shelter, and 17-year-old Jon was listening. Jon said he used and sold drugs but never thought of them as deadly. Now he does.

"Man, I'm not going to do them any more," the dark-headed teenager said.

That's all Nedra can hope for. Maybe sharing Dustin's fate will cause kids to reconsider drinking or doing drugs. Or it might convince teens to get help for a friend who passes out after drinking and doing drugs, as Dustin apparently did.

Telling Dustin's story might save a life.

"I'm not just going to let him lie there," Nedra said, sitting in her midtown Tulsa home where she and her husband, Terry, have lived for decades.

"I'm going to help other kids."

Dustin's story is not uncommon.

Only days after Dustin's death, headlines across the nation announced the death of Brent Shapiro, the son of celebrity attorney Robert Shapiro, who defended O.J. Simpson in his infamous murder case. The younger Shapiro had mixed ecstasy and alcohol and died at age 25.

Nedra and Terry don't believe enough people are paying attention to the deaths.

Nedra, who owns and runs a local consignment store, is a stylishly coifed woman with manicured nails, matching accessories and an uplifting manner. She isn't afraid to cry and often does when she speaks of Dustin.

Terry is a tall, gray-headed man who uses his hands when he talks. He is pragmatic and serious, especially when he speaks of Dustin.

Together they shared Dustin's story.

The small, tow-headed boy was in the fourth grade when he came to live with Nedra and Terry. He was the child of Nedra's son.

The Babcocks said Dustin was playful and often joked around. He wanted to please people but also would stand up to a challenge.

He had a head for math and science and began taking calculus at Evangelistic Temple School when he was in middle school, Nedra said.

But, she said, Dustin was looking for a love he never found. She and her husband loved Dustin in the best way they knew, even adopted him in 2001.

"I don't know what we could have done for him to make him happier," Nedra said.

In the ninth grade, Dustin got in with a trouble-making crowd, a circle of kids who used drugs and drank, they said. Dustin followed their lead. He smoked marijuana, missed curfew and skipped school. He would later be arrested for a serious crime.

The Babcocks said they grounded Dustin, took away his privileges and sought counseling for him and the family. The teenager temporarily would clean up, they said, but inevitably returned to the "wrong" crowd.

"I felt like we were digging a hole we could never get out of," Nedra said. "We felt like the only thing we could do was take him away."

Their next step was a radical one.

Long before sunrise on a warm May day in 2003, the Babcocks woke up the then 15-year-old Dustin, handcuffed him and drove him 4½ hours to Agape Boarding School in Stockton, Mo.

"He had left us no alternative. His life was in a downward spiral," Terry said.

Dustin fought the entire time. Kicked and screamed and cried, Nedra said. But a few weeks there changed his attitude. He came home a year later and even spoke of his reformation at church.

Shortly after Dustin's return, Nedra threw him a birthday party at Fajita Rita's, where she remembers looking at Dustin, a short, blue-eyed teenager with spiked hair, and thinking the worst was over.

"It was so fun," she said. "We were convinced (he was cleaned up) or else we wouldn't have brought him home. But it's strong out there."

Dustin walked the straight path until summer ended and school started. It was the start of fall in 2004.

He had a little more than a year to live.

Dustin returned to his defiant ways. In May 2005, he was arrested on drug-related charges.

He continued to get into trouble, trouble far more serious than the Babcocks would suspect.

Dustin was arrested again Sept. 24, 2005, for possession of marijuana and methamphetamine with the intent to distribute, said Tulsa Police Det. Cecil Piercy.

Dustin had a "history of burglary and larceny and dangerous drugs," Piercy said.

This time, the Babcocks didn't bail Dustin out until a week after his arrest.

It was during that week in jail that Dustin wrote his thoughts and letters to his family.

He had intentions: "I plan to pick a new set of friends because the ones I have aren't helping me achieve my goals in life."

He had hopes: To be a dentist and "live a good life, away from drugs and sin."

He had regret: "Mom (Nedra), I love you so dearly and am so sorry for the hurt I've caused . . . You are the sunshine in my life."

Terry bailed Dustin out of jail on Sept. 30 while Nedra was working in California. Later that Friday evening, Dustin went to the fair with his girlfriend.

Terry told him to be home at 11 p.m.

"Dustin had a hard time with the definition of love, and I used to tell him love is a noun, but it's a verb also," Terry said. "On his last night (alive) he said 'I love you.' I asked if he meant it as a noun or a verb, and he said both."

Dustin wasn't home by 11, or even by the next day.

About 6 p.m. on Oct. 1, Terry sat down with a plate of burgers to watch the University of Oklahoma football game.

Then a policeman came to his door.

About 10 minutes later, Terry Babcock called his wife.

In California, Nedra saw on her cell phone that Terry had called. She dialed home. Terry answered.

"What are you doing?" Nedra asked.

"I'm just sitting here," he said. "Dustin is dead. He's dead."

According to Piercy, Dustin was found in a nonresponsive state — but alive — by a female friend at her house between noon and 1 p.m. Saturday.

He died shortly after arriving at St. Francis Hospital, the autopsy reports.

"He (Dustin) had a large amount of Tramadol and was mixing it with alcohol," Piercy said.

Nedra realized just days after burying Dustin — at a funeral attended by more than 500 people — that she must do something.

It is how she makes sense of tragedy.

Terry Babcock said the foundation his wife, Nedra, started after their grandson died last year is one thing that gives her hope. Nedra educates local youth about the dangers of drugs and alcohol.

Leigh Woosley 581-8465
leigh.woosley@tulsaworld.com