By Todd C. Frankel, St. Louis Post-Dispatch –
ST. LOUIS — Tina Meier woke up at 6:45 a.m. Wednesday, the memory of what happened six years ago never far from her mind.
She was unsure how she would make it through. But time had allowed her practice.
Meier made breakfast, a waffle with peanut butter and jelly for her daughter Allison, a protein shake and yogurt for herself. Then she had to get ready. She needed to leave her home in Dardenne Prairie, Mo., and be in St. Charles by 9:30 a.m. She would be giving another talk about her daughter Megan.
Megan was 13 when she took her own life in 2006 after being the target of a cruel online hoax. The incident ignited such intense outrage that “Megan Meier” emerged as a shorthand description of the Internet’s dark ability to ruthlessly, anonymously bully. The story only loomed larger when a mother of one of Megan’s friends was accused of playing a role in the deceit.
And Meier, preparing to head out the door on this overcast morning, became one of those pained parents fighting for change. Tragedy had thrust the role upon others, such as John Walsh, the victim’s advocate whose son Adam vanished, or Ed Smart, whose daughter Elizabeth was kidnapped. Now, it was Meier. That she found herself in that position still managed to surprise. “Six years ago, every single thing was transformed in a moment’s time,” she said. “Good lord.”
For the past 1/2 years, she has worked as director of the Megan Meier Foundation, giving talks across the country to raise awareness about bullying. She estimates she has spoken before 140,000 people. Reporters and TV producers still call Meier after each case of a bullied teen pushed too far. Last weekend, it was the BBC and a Canadian news program wanting to talk about Amanda Todd, the 15-year-old British Columbia girl who took her own life after making a You Tube video detailing years of bullying.
Meier still resembles that mother so often interviewed when Megan’s death first became a symbol of something larger than one family’s tragedy. Her blond hair still falls in layers toward her shoulders. Her blue eyes still look perpetually wet, like she is on the edge of tears. She still gets recognized in airports and restaurants.
She is 42 now. She is divorced from Megan’s father. He still lives in the old house. Meier lives with Allison a few miles away.
A few minutes after 9:30 a.m., Meier walked into St. Charles High School. She moved quickly in black skirt and black blouse, pulling a gray rolling suitcase through the halls. Except for the picture of Megan pinned to her chest, she looked like a business consultant. She strode into the auditorium where about 200 students were seated and began to set up. She knew the routine.
But she didn’t know if her routine would hold. She purposefully had never given a talk about Megan on two days of the year: Oct. 16, the anniversary of when Megan hanged herself, and Oct. 17, when she died. Meier always turned down those invitations. Except this year. After all, it had been six years.
But she had choked up during her talk in Wentzville, Mo., on Tuesday, and it surprised her. Meier tries to hold thoughts of Megan in a different place during her speeches. She doesn’t want people to see her as “a lady they feel sorry for.” She wants the focus on her anti-bullying message.
As she stood on stage that day, Meier recalled the last time she drove Megan to school, how they stopped at a gas station for Hershey’s chocolate bars. Megan liked to buy them for friends who needed cheering up. Meier saw her daughter smile as she ran inside.
Thinking of that moment, Meier could feel herself losing control. Get a grip, she told herself. Get a grip.
She was determined not to do that in St. Charles.
Meier stood on the stage and, with a slideshow of family photos playing on the screen behind her, told the story she had told countless times.
She began at the beginning: Megan was born Nov. 6, 1992. She would have been nearing her 20th birthday. Meier spoke frankly about how Megan struggled with both depression and being bullied. Meier described how, by seventh grade, Megan cried coming and going from school. Megan was bigger than other girls. Not fat, just bigger. But boys called her “thunder thighs” and “elephant.”
As Megan neared her 14th birthday, Meier allowed her daughter to sign up for MySpace, the Facebook of six years ago. Because she closely monitored her daughter’s online activities, she knew Megan was flirting online with a high school boy named “Josh Evans.” Megan was excited. Then the messages from Josh took a turn, accusing Megan of being mean to her friends. The taunts got worse. Other teens got wind of it. The online potshots got nastier until Josh sent a final missive: “This world would be a better place without you.”
That was on Oct. 16, 2006. That night, Megan hanged herself in her bedroom closet.
Eventually, it emerged that “Josh Evans” never existed. His online profile was created as a ruse. Federal and state authorities investigated. Lori Drew, who lived four doors away from the Meiers, was accused of masterminding the plot. She was convicted of three misdemeanors related to online harassment. A judge later dismissed the charges.
Standing on stage, Meier urged the students to be kinder to one another, more aware of how their words hurt, and to seek out help.
“People say, it’s been six years, so are you over it?” Meier told them. She shook her head. “I miss Megan every single moment of every single day. I miss her dimples. I miss her laugh. I miss her messy room. I miss what she could have been.”
Her talk lasted an hour. She made it through.
