I am posting a letter I sent to a few state reps at the end of last year, when WV leaders were still grappling with drilling regulations.  As most of you know, the select committee came up with a less than perfect bill, but it was a start and gave surface owners a bit more protection.  Governer Tomblin, however, took it upon himself to write his OWN bill, with the help of the gas industry, which offered LESS protection in many ways than before regulations were even in place!

As naive as I may be, I still wanted to at least give another perspective on the many faceted problems associated with horizontal drilling:

To whom it may concern:

My name is Nancy Bevins.  My husband and I and our 4 children built a small organic farm on 40 acres here in WV.  We raise sheep, chickens and produce for the farmer's market.  I sell handmade items on Etsy which I make from our sheep's wool.  We are also foster parents and have adopted 5 children in addition to our 4.

On May 1st, 2011, my only biological son was killed in a drilling accident in Smyrna, New York.  He was working for a local drilling company, contracted by Norse Energy, to set up a horizontal drilling rig.  Because we have retained a lawyer, we are not able to give a detailed description of his death, but we are convinced that the negligence and unsafe conditions of the site, which the company was aware of, caused the death of our son. 

There is no way to describe the pain and heartache our family is now going through.  Every inch of our land was walked by our son.  The posts which hold up our fences were driven into the ground by him and my husband.  The walls and foundation of our home were crafted by his hands.  Every single day of our lives is now a struggle as we try to make sense of what has beset our family.  Every night, before I go to sleep, I picture him slowly dying as they rushed him to the hospital, scared, without a single loved one at his side.  There are days I do OK, and others in which I can barely get out of bed.

As we deal with the sadness it is more and more becoming entangled with anger.  Before he was killed I began learning about the dangers and environmental consequences that unchecked drilling can reap on the environment.  Although my son loved his coworkers, he worried about the conditions and knew it was extremely dangerous, especially the speed in which they were pushing these young men to set up and drill for gas.  With the sheer number of wells and the inadequate number of inspectors, the remote locations of these sites are mostly unregulated and unchecked.  He was working 15 days on, with only 5 days off, 2 of the 5 in which were spent driving to and from NY.  Most days he worked between 14 and 16 hours, sometimes longer if relief never showed up. 

Before he left for New York the last time, I made him promise me he'd sit down and maybe we could figure out a way to increase production on the farm and other ways he could make a living besides drilling...a few weeks prior he had been injured on the job, a blow to his face by a swinging pipe.  He was only making 13.25 per hour and he hated being away from his family.  He lived with his fiance and 2 small children on our property.

I am sure you are very aware of the environmental impact these drilling companies will have on our precious state, and I am so thankful that some of you are pushing for tougher regulations.  But I decided to write and tell you of our lives so you could be aware that the problems involved with drilling are multifaceted.  I feel there is no safe, humane, and environmentally responsible way to frack.  Young men are being recruited for these dangerous jobs, some just out of high school.  When I talked with my son's co-workers and asked them if they knew what fracking really is, they were misinformed.  When asked what they are putting into the ground, 3 out of the 3 sitting on our couch said "Sand, water, and soap."  Most workers are not even aware of the poisions they are being exposed to daily.  Drug problems are rampant BECAUSE they are forced to work inhumanely long hours.  The companies conveniently turn a blind eye because a working body, to them, is better than no body on the rigs.

We have a well, as I am sure thousands and thousands of other West Virginians do, and we depend on that water for drinking, for our animals, and for our organic produce.  We are unable to get city water, as again I am sure thousands of other West Virginians are unable to also.  Even if we were, the cost of buying it would be crippling for us.  We live in fear that a gas well will go in near our home, and our once pristine water will be contaminated.  Our son is buried here, we just can't pick up and leave.

This is a matter of survival.  This is a matter of unbelievable urgency.  It is impossible to say this without sounding dramatic, but once our water is contaminated, there will be no going back.  And for what?  A few temporary jobs?  Tell that to Texans who still have a higher unemployment rate that WV and many other states...a state which has let oil and gas companies over-run their farms for many years.  A state which, while going through the worse drought since the dust bowl, is still allowing hydro-fracking, which uses between 4 and 8 MILLION gallons of water per well.  This, while crops shrivel up and die for lack of rain.  The situation is nothing short of insanity.

I have attached a picture of our son and his baby, who we are now raising.  Our son was a sweet funny, generous and kind young man, and his children have been robbed of his influence by the greed and irresponsibility of a corporation.  Please don't let this happen to another family.  Please consider the risks these operations are taking not only with the environment, but with human lives.

Sincerely,

Nancy Bevins

My Boy

For a very long time now, I have wanted to tell what happened to my son, to tell our story of grief, to explain how losing him has left our family incomplete, but each time I feel like I can't find the right words.  I know that many thousands of other parents have lost a child, or children.  I did not begin this tale to claim that my sorrow is unique, or out of the ordinary.  That losing OUR son has stopped the earth on it's axis and darkened the sun.  That my pain is in some way more severe than that which another mother felt after the death of her infant, or toddler, or teenager, or adult child.

I can only relay to you, my reader, that which I felt, which I feel, which I now know.  That losing my son has brought an irreversible emptiness to my once very full and happy life.  Never again will I sit at our dining room table with all of my offspring surrounding it, laughing at silly remembrances, teasing each other relentlessly, arguing and forgiving,...a family complete.  Never again will I watch my son scoop up his child, lay his head gently on his strong shoulder and stroke his sweaty curls while kissing him on the cheek. 

If, as another grieving parent you have come here to seek out answers, I have none to offer.  There are days when I am strong, rising with determination to turn things around, organize, catch up, conquer.  But more often come days when as I roll from the bed, his face crosses my vision, and I remember, I'm the mother of a dead son.  My son is dead.  He is not coming back.  His body is under the soil in our woods, buried among the trees he climbed, near the fences he tightened, a short walk from the house he helped build. 

But I also didn't begin writing to gain sympathy, or to gain answers of my own.  I have become wise enough to know that only going through the grieving at grieving's pace will get me further down the healing path, though I know a complete recovery is unattainable.  I read once, that losing a child is like losing a leg.  You are bed ridden for a while, but slowly you are able to sit up, then maybe walk a few feet with crutches.  You are fitted with a prosthetic leg...you learn to shuffle, then walk.  Eventually you may even learn to run...but everyday you will be reminded, that your leg is gone,...you will get used to the new "normal"...but it will never be the same.

In 2 days my son would have been 24 years old.  This small corner of the internet will be my present to him, to his memory.  It will also be a gift to anyone who loved him, a place of refuge to cry in private, a place to advance their own grieving process, a place to share and remember.  And to anyone who stumbles across our hiding place, know that my son's death does not solicit sad cliches and typical condolences,...our lives will never be the same....but we can move our paths in ways that just might make a difference, in his name.