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One of the most influential people in my life was a 14-year-old girl whom I never talked to.

Unfortunately, I will never have the chance to, either.

That girl was Mariah McCarthy, a Butte girl who was killed by an underage drunk driver early in the morning of Oct. 28, 2007. She was hit by a truck as she and two friends walked home on what was thought to be a safe walking trail along Blacktail Lane.

Mariah was the daughter of my friend Leo McCarthy, whom I usually ran into at Montana Tech football games.

The news of the three Butte girls spread around town as I was watching the Chicago Bears lose a game with my dad at my parents’ house. My friend Davey Dunmire texted, and I assumed it was about how poorly the Bears were playing like usual.

This time, though, Davey told me about the tragedy, and he had the names of the three girls. They were three familiar names, but I didn’t think the girls with those names I knew were that old.

I thought Leo’s youngest daughter was still only 7 or 8. I always seem to be surprised by how quickly children grow up.

My heart dropped when my mom hung up the phone and said, “Leo McCarthy’s daughter was the girl who was killed.”

That split second changed my life forever.

My daughter was 4 at the time, and we were just a couple of weeks away from welcoming her little brother into the world.

The thought of losing my daughter, who was running around her grandparents’ house playing with cousins, was one that I just couldn’t deal with. So, I grabbed her every time she came running by my chair. I hugged her, kissed her and told her how much I love her to the point that I was bugging her.

That night, I went back to my parents’ house to watch the Boston Red Sox win the World Series with my dad. Even a victory by my favorite team could not ease the pain I felt for my friend or the terrible thoughts that were rattling around my brain.

A thought that was almost as scary was this: I could have been the driver behind the wheel. Or, I could be the dad who shows his children that it is normal to drive home after drinking alcohol, and someday they could be that driver.

The acceptance of drinking and driving is a learned behavior, and I could not live with myself if my children learned such a thing from me. As it was, I was heading in the direction of teaching my children exactly that.

So, in the early morning hours of Oct. 28, 2007 was when I took my last drink of alcohol.

I covered the Montana Tech-Montana Western football game that Saturday for The Montana Standard. After a shift of nearly 12 hours, I walked down from the newsroom for a few beers at Maloney’s Bar to unwind.

That was an act that I did way more than I would care to admit. I drank as many beers as I could until the bartender told us we had to leave, and then I would drive my car home.

It was something all of us did. When someone was pinched for driving drunk, we resented the police officer who made the arrest, as if the drunk driver was the victim of tyranny.

Four days later, on Nov. 1, I stood in the back of St. Ann’s Church and watched Leo deliver an incredible eulogy for his daughter.

After nearly 17 years, I am still amazed by the strength and courage that took. During his talk, Leo looked at the heartbroken friends of his daughter and made a promise. He said if they don’t drink underage and refuse to get into a car with anyone who has, he would have scholarship money for them.

He thought he was speaking just to a few friends, but everyone was listening. With that, Mariah’s Challenge was born, almost on accident.

In addition to having to deal with the difficult days around Halloween every year, the McCarthy family now relives the tragedy every spring as they hand out the Mariah Daye McCarthy Scholarship to high school seniors who live by the ideals of Mariah’s Challenge.

That has to be tough for Leo, Janice and Jenna, but they do for the future generations. They do it for their daughter and sister.

To date, the scholarship has handed out $488,000 to students Leo calls “Mariah’s Messengers.” That scholarship and that movement has also saved lives. We don’t know how many for sure, but I am positive mine is one of them.

On Friday, Nov. 2, 2007 — or it could have been Nov. 9 — I made a promise to my daughter. Ironically enough, that promise was made as we sat for lunch at the Deluxe Sports Bar.

Delaney looked at a folded-up beer advertisement on the table and said, “Ewe beer. That’s gross.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I don’t want you to ever drink that stuff.”

She said that she wouldn’t and that she didn’t want me to drink it every again, either.

“It’s a deal,” I said, and I have lived up to that promise.

I didn’t have to attend a meeting or go to rehab or anything. My daughter was motive enough.

Later this month will mark the 17^th anniversary of my last drink. That is an anniversary that I mark privately, and I am damn proud of it. It is not, however, an anniversary that I brag about because I know that day is the worst for my friend and his family.

Besides, I don’t see that anniversary as being about me. It is about so much more than that. It is about a bunch of people who looked into the mirror and decided to make a change. It is about Leo leading the way to change a culture.

Mariah’s Challenge has never been about avoiding drinking all together. It has been about being responsible if and when you drink alcohol.

For me, though, I knew I had to stop altogether because I had no off switch once I started to drink. One was too many and 24 was not enough.

When I woke up on the morning of Oct. 28, 2007, I figured I would continue drinking the way I always had. Even though I embarrassed myself several times, I figured I could handle it.

I didn’t have a drinking problem, I figured. I just had a problem sometimes when I drank.

Then I heard about Mariah McCarthy and everything changed.

I never advocated for others to quit drinking because I know everyone is different, and everyone can make their own decisions. I just hope that they think about the consequences before they get behind the wheel of a car.

I just hope that you can look yourself in the mirror and know that you are a good role model for your kids. Believe me, that is a feeling I wish everyone could feel.

On Oct. 28, 2007, I was on the verge of being a divorced father of two. Today, I am still married to my best friend, and we have two daughters and a son. The youngest girl would not be here if I didn’t change in the wake of that awful tragedy.

It’s been 17 years since Mariah McCarthy changed my life and our community.

I just wish she could still be here to see it.

— Bill Foley, who is damn proud to be one of the many “Mariah’s Messangers,” can be reached at foles74@gmail.com. Follow him at twitter.com/Foles74. Listen to him on the ButteCast on Apple Podcasts, Spotify or wherever you find your favorite podcasts.