PRAIRIE VILLAGE ? It was late at night in 1983 when Nancy Cruzan ran her car off a country road while driving home, triggering a chain of events that resulted in the U.S. Supreme Court’s only right-to-die case.

It also was the start of eight years of despair and disappointment for the family of the permanently unconscious woman with no hope of recovery because her injuries, and it sparked a national right-to-die debate.

For her parents, Joe and Joyce Cruzan of Carterville, Mo., the options were few allow her to remain in a hospital for the rest of her life with no cognitive brain function, or remove her feeding tube and let her die as they believed she would have wanted.

The family’s attorney, Bill Colby of Prairie Village, has written a book, “Long Goodbye: The Deaths of Nancy Cruzan,” that went on sale recently and recounts in compelling detail the four-year legal battle and what the family went through.

“The accident only gave them bad choices, but it should be their choice to make. It gave them options, but horrible, grim options,” Colby said.

‘A real tribute’

Chris Cruzan White, Nancy Cruzan’s older sister, said it was the right decision for their family.

“I’m not saying what we did for Nancy is right for every family,” said White of Joplin, Mo. “This would have been the decision Nancy would have made and that’s what this was about, honoring Nancy.”

Attorney Bill Colby talks about the Nancy Cruzan right-to-die case. Colby represented Cruzan's family in the case, which went before the U.S. Supreme Court, and he now has written a book about the event.

Of the book, White said, “I consider it a real tribute to my dad, my mom and Nance and all that they endured.”

Colby, 47, was a young attorney in a prestigious Kansas City, Mo., law firm when he was handed the case. Over the years, he developed a close friendship with the family as he fought their legal battles.

“The Cruzans gave me a great gift, to see how people struggle with adversity and keep their dignity,” he said. “It gave me a chance to grow close to clients I really care about and grow close to them as people.”

While the story is about Nancy Cruzan, it’s also the story of Joe Cruzan’s dogged determination and frustration to give his daughter what he believed she would have wanted.

“He lived his life and made his decisions by a moral compass. Protecting family was everything,” Colby said. “That helped him to rise to any occasion.”

Father’s broken heart

The tragedy didn’t end with Nancy Cruzan’s death Dec. 26, 1990, at age 33. Six years later, Joe Cruzan committed suicide after years of severe depression. In the end, he was a father with a broken heart.

“The whole period of time was a weight on him that he couldn’t lift off. His fate may have been sealed in ’83 when her car ran off the road,” Colby said.

Then, in 1999, Joyce Cruzan died after battling cancer.

Colby, who taught last year at Kansas University School of Law, said what really muddied the waters was Nancy Cruzan left no specific instructions about what she would want under such circumstances.

“I hope the book will give us a lesson, and that is that this could happen to any family. As Joe said many times, life can turn on a dime,” said Colby, who’s affiliated with Midwest Bioethics Center in Kansas City, Mo., a leading bioethics think tank that helps people with end-of-life decisions.

People should have a living-will document stating their desires if they become incapacitated or a health care proxy giving someone the legal power to make such decisions, Colby said.

“But such documents are just the start. People need to talk about their views and wishes with their loved ones so they can act as an advocate when the time ever comes,” he said.

Colby said Americans were reluctant to talk about dying and death.

“We have birth, life and death, so why not talk about it,” he said. “It’s helpful to your loved ones.”

National debate

The Cruzan case sparked a national debate on right-to-die. It pitted those who thought the family was horribly wrong against those who felt it was the family’s choice.

“I don’t try to make value judgments about anybody involved in the case,” Colby said. “They were scrambling to sort out the issues the best they could.”

Even so, it was an emotional roller coaster for the family. In July 1988, Jasper County Probate Judge Charles Teel approved the family’s request to have the feeding tube removed.

Days later, the state of Missouri jumped into the fray and appealed that decision. In November 1988, the Missouri Supreme Court overturned Teel’s ruling, saying, “We choose to err on the side of life.”

Colby appealed to the U.S. Supreme Court and in December 1989, the court heard arguments in its first right-to-die case.

In June 1990, the court upheld the state’s position that in absence of “clear and convincing” evidence of Nancy Cruzan’s wishes, the feeding tube remained.

“For the Cruzans, it was a loss most certainly, but the court gave us an avenue for a second trial,” Colby said.

Allowed to die

That avenue was the court saying another hearing could be conducted if there was “the discovery of new evidence regarding a patient’s intent.”

Colby had new evidence, what he felt was the “clear and convincing” evidence needed two former co-workers testified that they recalled Nancy Cruzan saying she would never want to live “like a vegetable.”

There was a Plan B moving her to another state, in case the family again lost in court. But Colby said Joe Cruzan was against it.

“He said ‘We’re Missourians. Why should we move her from Missouri if we are doing the right thing?'” Colby recalled.

After hearing the new evidence, Teel ruled Dec. 14, 1990, that the feeding tube could be removed by doctors at the Missouri Rehabilitation Center where she was. The day after Christmas, she died with her family at her side.

Reflecting how her family felt, her tombstone has three dates:

Born July 20, 1957.

Departed January 11, 1983.

At Peace December 26, 1990.

Above the dates there’s an engraving of a brain wave scan, the spiked lines spelling “Thank You” and then trailing off to a flat line.