Young Father Dies In Crash

ROYAL HIGHLANDS - Three days ago, Keyanna Rawlins narrowly missed an errant car on Mariner Boulevard.
The close-call badly shook up her fiancé, Jovan Reese, who was riding passenger.
All of a sudden, "he was saying, 'I love my life. I can't imagine living without you or my son,'" Rawlins recalled on Tuesday.
Those words will be her anchor in the coming days.
Half an hour after midnight Tuesday, Reese was headed north on a rural dirt road in Royal Highlands at an "unsafe speed," according to the Florida Highway Patrol.
He crested a blind hill on Gonzo Road and lost control as he traveled downhill toward the T-shaped intersection with Barnvelde Road. The gold Chrysler slid sideways and rolled over twice, flinging its driver out of the vehicle.
Reese died on the roadside. He was 27.
Right behind him was a sheriff's deputy, Glen Hickey, who was trying to pull him over for reportedly running a stop sign at Knuckey Road and Lelani Drive.
The lights atop his car were on, but Hickey hadn't begun a pursuit before the crash occurred. It's possible Reese didn't even know a cruiser was behind him because of the distance between the two, a sheriff's office spokeswoman said.
Shortly afterwards, Rawlins, 21, was notified that her car was involved in a wreck in Royal Highlands. She drove the 18 miles from their Spring Hill home, but Rawlins didn't see her fiancé around.
Her first thought was that he had bolted into the woods. Records show Reese was arrested in Pasco County in 2005 for running from the cops.
Her anger melted into grief when she learned that Reese was dead.
Reese and Rawlins have been dating some eight years. Five years into their relationship, Reese proposed on a whim at a gas station.
Rawlins remembers the occasion with a chuckle. He dropped to one knee and said, "You know what? I love you. Will you marry me?"
A year later, they welcomed a son to their home a few blocks south of Spring Hill Drive. Reese wouldn't budge on the name.
"He always wanted a Jovan Junior," Rawlins said.
Nineteen months later, their son napped while Rawlins contemplated how she would pull her life together.
As a nursing student working at the Regional Medical Center in Bayonet Point, Rawlins has seen her share of car crash victims.
"It's just so weird though when it's someone you know," she said.
Twelve hours after the crash, Reese's extended family assembled at the crash site to look over the damage.
The car was gone, but there was plenty of evidence of the tragedy left behind: tire tracks cutting across the sandy corner, bits of car, a puddle of glass, a small patch of grass matted with blood.
Some of the family questioned the sheriff's office version of events and paced the scene asking questions.
Others looked past any conspiracy theories and simply accepted the fact that Reese was gone.
If it hadn't been his time to go, "we would be in the hospital now, not here," said his aunt, Audrey Williams. "We all have to cross that bridge."