Family of Savannah teacher killed in ICE-involved crash grapples with grief

POOLER ― For Consweulo Davis, 6:30 p.m. is the hardest time of the day.
Her loved ones know that’s when she puts dinner on the family table, and they’re punctual. Her 7-year-old foster child comes running. One of the family’s six adult children, the one who still lives at home, is there, too.
But her wife of three years, Linda, no longer comes. She was killed in a Presidents Day car crash involving a Guatemalan man who faced deportation and was fleeing immigration agents. What was once Consweulo’s favorite time of day is now the cruelest.
“When 6:30 comes, it still chokes me up, because I still expect to see her coming to the table,” Davis said. “It’s always the best part of the day, because before we would eat, she would go around and ask everybody what they were grateful for that day. Now, I dread 6:30.”

These are difficult times at the Davis’ home in the Savannah suburbs. Two weeks have passed since Linda Davis pulled out of the driveway and drove the 45 minutes to Hesse K-8 School, where she taught special education to elementary schoolers. Classes were out that day for the holiday, but Davis commuted to join her colleagues for a teacher training day.
She was turning left at an intersection just a quarter-mile from the school Feb. 16 when a red pickup truck traveling at a high rate of speed ran the red light and collided with her sedan. She died at the age of 52. The driver of the truck, Oscar Vasquez Lopez, 38, faces vehicular homicide charges.

The circumstances around the accident have thrust Linda Davis and her surviving kin into the national spotlight. Lopez’s immigration status and federal agents’ decision to chase him when he evaded an attempted traffic stop are political fodder in the increasingly intense immigration debate.
But the Davis family wants Linda remembered for the person she was, not as the victim of a tragedy that can be used as a partisan talking point. She personified love as a wife, mother, daughter, teacher and friend, family members said, and exhibited an admirable habit that runs contrary to divisiveness: Seek ye first to understand.
That’s how Consweulo and Linda first became friends. Linda joined Savannah’s Agape Empowerment Ministries church in the mid-2000s, traveling the hour from her home in the coastal South Carolina town of Beaufort to worship. She was drawn to Agape Empowerment because it was inclusive of the LGBTQ community, and in church dinners and Bible studies she came to know a U.S. Army servicewoman prone to vocally challenging traditional Christian beliefs.
The daughter of a pastor, Linda was intrigued by Consweulo’s stances. So she invited her to lunch at a restaurant in Beaufort. The two talked from the noon hour to rush hour, and Consweulo was smitten. Linda initially told Consweulo she wasn’t her type and they should remain friends, but they gradually grew closer, began dating in 2021 and were married in 2023.

Andrea Chang, Linda’s older sister, smiles as Consweulo recounts the love story. Curiosity and empathy were traits Linda first exhibited as a small child. There are four Murray sisters — Murray is Linda and Andrea’s maiden name — and all were involved with their parents’ work, which often involved ministering to migrant workers who passed through Beaufort at strawberry and tomato harvest time.
Dad would preach while mom, a nurse, would tend to health needs.
Linda was always on the lookout for the marginalized within those already marginalized communities, Chang said. It’s why decades later Linda switched from teaching general education to special ed, where her focus was on children with learning disabilities and other challenges. It’s why last year she self-published a book titled “Restoring Self-Love: A Journey of Healing and Empowerment” to help those facing mental and emotional struggles.
“She was drawn to those who seemed left behind and needed someone to reach back and say, ‘Hey, what do you need?’” Chang said. “She was always looking forward in life but always conscious of the importance of looking back to help others.”

Nowhere was Linda’s nurturing spirit more apparent than in her own home. She and Consweulo had six adult children — Linda birthed four, Consweulo two — in addition to their foster child. Two live in the home, a tidy, warmly decorated two-story house with a cozy porch on the front. Across the street is the subdivision’s community playground and swimming pool.
Once a month, all would gather for a Sunday supper. Often they grilled steaks — Linda’s favorite, served with a side of Heinz 57 sauce. It’s always been dinner and a show, with the karaoke machine, cued to 1990s R&B songs, providing the entertainment.
Linda was the showstopper, her lifelong love of music evident. She learned to play the piano — by ear — as a girl and marched with the Battery Creek High School band as a clarinetist. She had many other talents: athletically, she starred in volleyball, attending Winthrop University on a scholarship; artistically, she possessed a keen fashion eye, particularly for color matching.

Linda was not so much loved as adored. Consweulo said she deals with the grief of losing the love of her life “moment by moment.” The emotions wash over her in irregular and unpredictable patterns. She revels in the joy and anguishes in the pain, never quite sure when the ebb and flow will begin or end.
“We didn’t get to say goodbye,” Consweulo said as the sadness pushed all the fond memories from her mind in a split second. “How many people do you know where it didn’t matter who you were or where you came from, their attitude is, ‘How can I love you?’ That was Linda.”



