Family Rallies Round Victim of Block Tossed From Freeway Bridge : Love and Anger Part of the Cure

Like any big brother would be, Ralph Meyering was angry. He was--and is--angry that “justice wasn’t served” in the case of his baby brother.

Ralph’s 24-year-old brother, Kurt Meyering, was injured critically Feb. 29 when a 6-pound block of concrete smashed through the roof of the car he was driving and struck him in the skull.

It was hurled from a bridge by two teen-age boys whose sentences--in the view of the Meyering family--are “absurdly” lenient.

One, a 14-year-old from Point Loma, pleaded no contest in April to three counts of assault with a deadly weapon. He was ordered to spend at least a year in VisionQuest, a wilderness rehabilitation program.

The other, a 16-year-old from Golden Hill, was convicted in April of the same charges and was sent to the California Youth Authority for a 90-day evaluation, after which he will be returned to Juvenile Court for further sentencing.

In the meantime, Kurt has a good day if he can walk without pain or finish a sentence that makes sense. Doctors say he has the mental capacity of a 7- or 8-year-old.

He’s made remarkable progress--and may yet fully recover--but, he, too, bristles with anger.

‘We’re Very, Very Dissatisfied’

“We’re very, very dissatisfied,” said Ralph, a 36-year-old television writer from Los Angeles. “The judge in this case (Juvenile Court Judge Sheridan Reed) has done a tremendous disservice to Kurt and the community. We felt all along she was more concerned with getting those kids back on the street than she was with meting out justice. She ought to be ashamed of herself.”

Kurt’s injury occurred when he and friend Jane Casey were driving her 1984 Corvette--one she had purchased minutes earlier--under a bridge where Broadway crosses Interstate 5. Investigators said two rocks were hurled from the bridge, one striking a car in which no one was injured.

Casey escaped injury but filed a $50,000 claim against the City of San Diego. The Meyerings have also filed, asking the city for $10 million in damages.

“Drive to Tijuana and then come back, heading north,” Ralph said. “Pretty soon, you’ll notice that every single bridge is covered or has a fence around it--except for that one.

“Why is that?” he asked angrily. “It surprises me. It offends me. And it still isn’t covered, unless they’re out there now, doing it. It’s incredible. How much ‘history’ do people need before they finally act?”

Despite the rage at the city and the boys who did him wrong, Kurt spent much of Thursday relaxing and laughing. He had his family beside him. He was “loving” the new “digs”--a small apartment in University Heights--where, once again, he can crank up the volume on Michael Jackson and Culture Club.

Brothers Ralph and Jim were there, as were sister Carol, and, of course, “Mom,” who quit work in Washington state to be with Kurt. He’s the youngest of nine children, eight of them boys.

Kurt’s father, who sells televisions at a store in Wenatchee, Wash., remains in the area where Kurt once lettered as a high-school quarterback. At the time the incident occurred, Kurt was a body builder weighing in at 225. His 6-foot-2 frame has been reduced by 45 pounds.

Dreams of Career

Before fate and the bridge intervened, Kurt had dabbled in modeling and acting, careers he dreams of pursuing even now. He showed his modeling portfolio to anyone who would look Thursday afternoon, saying that someday, he would do it again.

“I like the women and the clothes they let you wear,” he said with a grin. “The women are great.”

So far, his progress has been remarkable. Doctors told the family several times that they never thought he would make it. He lay in a coma from late February until May 3, when physical and occupational therapy began, fiercely, painstakingly, at Sharp Rehabilitation Center.

Kurt’s mentor, Kathy Clark, says he’s come a long way but has a long way to go.

“Two months ago, he wasn’t walking at all,” said Clark, manager of rehabilitation therapies at the center. “He was in a wheelchair and having difficulty initiating movement. He couldn’t move his arms or his legs.

“He also had big behavioral problems. He was verbally abusive to the staff--spitting, clenching his fists--all of which was behavior he couldn’t control. Now, that’s subsided.

“He can walk, talk, eat . . . and no longer uses a wheelchair. He has the functions--intellectually--of a 7- or 8-year-old. Not a lot of logic or reason. He still has a long way to go before acting like a 24-year-old adult.”

Will he ever?

“That’s a very good question,” she said. “He still has a ton of therapy left. The questions won’t be answered for at least another year. The brain damage was very extensive. The cement hit him in the top of the skull, damaging his frontal lobes. The brain was hit so hard, it swelled up, and, because of the pressure, became damaged. Severely damaged.”

Ralph, now on strike with the Writers Guild of America, says the Meyerings have grown closer, amid their first real crisis.

“Before,” he said, “we just didn’t have any bad times. Now, we know a lot about our own mortality. This is the first life-and-death situation we’ve ever had to face. It’s taken a lot out of all of us.”

It’s swallowed up time, and money. Medical costs alone now exceed $500,000 and will rise for quite some time, because of outpatient rehabilitation. There are legal fees, and numerous other costs, not the least of which are air fares to and from the state of Washington. Ralph says the family has “been stunned by the goodness of people, by so many wanting to help out.”

Recently, Kurt got the promise of financial help from Ray Willenberg Jr., who heads a foundation assisting the victims of brain injuries. Willenberg sponsors a golf tournament slated for the fall that Ralph says will defray some of Kurt’s medical costs. Insurance will pay much of the rest, although, once again, Ralph says, “by no means all.”

As Ralph spoke, Kurt sat in an easy chair, wearing a smile and earrings. He has dark curly hair and bushy eyebrows and, somehow, has managed to keep his rather spry humor. He pokes fun at his own condition, or at his family, an impeccable audience. At times, he appears as lucid as anyone in the room; at others, dreamy and incoherent.

He says he’s “ecstatic--I can’t tell you how much,” at having been “freed” from the constraints of the hospital. He says he benefits greatly from the warmth of a family that’s always there. Sometimes, he thinks of the boys who made him this way, and wonders why. The anger makes him hurt even more.

It’s a feeling the family shares.

“One of the kids told the court he felt ‘major remorse’ for what had happened,” Ralph said bitterly. “The boy said he would write a letter to us, expressing his remorse. Well, it’s been months now, and we still don’t have the letter. I rather doubt that we’ll ever see it.”