It's been nearly two decades since Anajean Ferdinand was a household name in Bakersfield.
Her tragic story of the devastation of drinking and driving forever changed the perception of the dangers of getting behind the wheel after a few beers.
So when Anajean called the 17 Newsroom looking for help, we never expected for her to help us understand the gift of forgiveness and closure after so many years.
For Anajean Ferdinand-Zamudio the minutes seem like hours outside a Real Road apartment complex.
"I figured one time we would meet eventually," She said. "Today is the day."
The last time Anajean saw James Kidwell was March 29, 1992.
"It was Sunday night about 8 p.m. We got on the White Lane overpass and the car stalled,'' Anajean told 17's Robin Mangarin. "I got to the back of the car, I remember looking behind me thinking. 'Nah, they're not going to hit me.' I remember going down, hitting my head on the bumper and falling back. I thought, 'I got the wind knocked out of me.' But I did know I couldn't get up."
Anajean Ferdinand was 12 years old when James Kidwell, who had been convicted of driving drunk 10 times prior to that night, drove drunk again, slamming into Anajean, crushing her legs.
'When she first got hit they told us we had to send her to San Francisco or Los Angeles. If we didn't, she would lose both legs," said Anajean's stepfather, Mike Edell.
After 29 surgeries and $25 million in medical care, doctors were able to save Anajean's legs. It was a painful journey, both emotionally and physically.
"One of the hardest things was the skin grafts," Anajean said. "They took all the skin off my back and put it on my legs. I had to be on my back for six months."
"She healed from her wounds,'' said Anajean's stepfather. "But my wife and I's wounds were constantly being picked open. Just like today … a lot of memories. I'm thinking OK, a grown man crying ... it's going to get better. But it doesn't."
At the time of the accident James Kidwell had 10 DUI convictions dating back to 1972.
In his 11th conviction, Kidwell plead guilty to the felony charges against him.
"Mr. Kidwell felt horrible about what happened,'' Michael Lukehart, who was Kidwell's attorney in 1992, said in a recent interview. ''He was shocked and stunned about what people were saying about him at the time. He was truly sorry about what happened."
District Attorney Ed Jagels said there is a lesson in the case.
"Obviously, in the case of People versus Kidwell, you have every element of what is wrong with the justice system in California. You had a guy with an unbelievable number of dui convictions, you have an innocent child, terrible injuries, and you had a totally inadequate maximum punishment under the law."
Kidwell was given the maximum sentence: Four years in prison. He was convicted of DUI two more times before coming back to live in Bakersfield last year.
Anajean saw Kidwell driving last year. She called information, found his number, and called him. Both agreed they needed to meet.
As the small white truck, eerily similar to the one he was driving the night of the accident, brought Kidwell to that meeting with Anajean, no one knew what to expect.
"Well I'm just a little nervous,'' Kidwell said after their initial greeting. "Mostly it's amazing. I just never thought it would come out this way. I'm glad that things have turned out good for Anajean."
After the accident, Anajean slowly learned to walk again. She was an integral part of a change in state law that added more time to sentences for chronic drunken drivers.
She married, and is raising two beautiful little girls with her husband.
But it has been a painful struggle. Financially, the family has been unable to purchase a home after nine years of trying to pay insurance companies for Anajean's medical bills.
Her physical pain often is nearly unbearable.
"I know right now I need something for the back of my leg," said Anajean. Without a prothesis Anajean is constantly subject to sores and infections on both legs. She is reluctant to get the help she needs because of the finanical strain it will put on her family.
Kidwell lives day to day. He says he still drinks. He works occaisionally as a mechanic and never married. He is living alone with what he calls painful memories.
"I needed to him to know that I forgive him," said Anajean.
When the two met, a wave unexpected compassion filled the room with hope for both. It was an opportunity to confront unanswered questions and regretable actions.
"Yes, I am sorry,'' Kidwell said. "I just never thought that my actions would lead to this."
"To say that I'm angry at him would say that I am unhappy how I am now and the person I am,'' Anajean said. "I'm just glad that we can kind of put this past us."
Following Anajean's reunion with Kidwell, Robin learned Kidwell wrote Anajean's family a check for $1,500, most of his savings. He plans to try and give Anajean part of his earnings every month to help her pay off medical bills.
Anajean says because Kidwell has no family, she hopes to keep him on the right track and keep him off the road should he ever consider drinking and driving again.
