Party bus was operating illegally when bridesmaid fell off and died in Norfolk

Jun. 21--NORFOLK

Eight months after a woman's fatal fall from a moving party bus during a bachelorette party, a recording of the 911 calls still causes chills.

Shocked bridesmaids are on a highway in the middle of the night begging for help, unsure of even exactly where they are.

"Oh my God ... Oh my God...," a caller cries into the phone. "She fell out of the bus!"

Between panicked breaths, the woman struggles to give a dispatcher the bridal party's location, repeatedly asking those around her, "Where are we? Where are we?"

To legally operate a party bus

If you want to drive groups around in Virginia -- and get paid for doing it -- you'll need to jump through some hoops to do it legally.

Before a bus or large "passenger carrier" hits the pavement, the company or owner first needs "operating authority" from the Department of Motor Vehicles.

That's a credentialing process meant to confirm that a company is properly insured and qualified to provide service.

Company owners must fill out a "certificate of fitness" form that includes, among other things, a criminal background check.

Among the 24 reasons for possible denial: any felony convictions, or misdemeanor convictions involving "lying, cheating, stealing or moral turpitude."

As for the bus itself, there are no special inspections associated with the operating authority.

That's where Virginia State Police come in.

"Motor carrier" troopers are authorized to do roadside inspections. Troopers can take a bus out of service if they find something wrong.

Buses that carry passengers across state lines are required to register with the U.S. Department of Transportation, which comes with its own list of rules. In some states, even buses operating exclusively within state borders are required to register with the feds in order to add another layer of oversight.

Virginia doesn't require that.

After months of investigation, prosecutors have said they're bringing no criminal charges in the matter. The victim, Kisha Marrow-Lott, a 37-year-old mother of two teenagers, fell against the door and her 120-pound frame was apparently enough to open it.

Her death, according to Brent Johnson, a chief deputy with the Norfolk Commonwealth's Attorney, was "the result of a tragic accident."

That does not, however, close the book on Kisha's story.

Her husband has filed a $25 million lawsuit, accusing the bus owner and driver -- a married couple from Newport News -- of negligence.

And then there's this: the party bus Kisha fell from was operating illegally.

Many do -- ignoring the licensing, oversight and insurance laws aimed at protecting passengers.

"Anybody can buy an old bus, throw some carpet in it with cheap lighting and say they're a party bus," said Chris Turner, with the nonprofit Commercial Vehicle Safety Alliance in Maryland.

It's a mushrooming industry, where unauthorized operators undercut legitimate companies and play cat and mouse with the overtaxed agencies trying to catch them.

Kisha was not the industry's first fatality.

Across the country, at least 30 people have died in party bus incidents over the past decade.

Half were killed by a fall from the vehicle. Just like Kisha.

This is the first of four 911 calls released by police in this case.

___

No one seems to have an accurate bead on the party bus industry. Regulatory agencies tend to simply lump charter buses into size categories, making solid stats about the industry's growth and problems hard to come by.

But take a spin around town on a weekend, and you'll see them -- everything from full-sized buses to shuttle-sized versions, many with signs on their sides advertising their services.

With more capacity than most limos and more room to move around, the buses are rented by families and friends for special occasions or even for just a few hours of luxurious, chauffeur-driven revelry.

"A 10-person limo for prom will cost you $600 to $700 plus tip," said Bob Hunter, who operated Royal Coach Limousine Service in Chesapeake for decades. "But you can put 40 kids on a bus at 20 bucks a pop and probably still come out cheaper."

The party bus Kisha fell from was a shuttle-sized model. Rated to carry as many as 16 passengers (including driver), it had no company name splashed across its sides. According to the lawsuit filed June 13 in Norfolk, the bus was advertising under the name "Rolling With The Wheelers."

The Virginia Department of Motor Vehicles says it's still investigating the bus's owner, Shannan Frazier-Wheeler, and her husband, Michael Dion Wheeler, who was driving that night, for violations of regulations covering commercial passenger vehicles.

Since the case is still open, DMV spokeswoman Katy Lloyd wouldn't give specifics. But she did say that the Wheelers have never applied for "proper operating authority" -- a required permitting process intended to vet and monitor for-hire outfits.

"They were not a legal passenger carrier," Lloyd said.

On the night of the bachelorette party -- Oct. 26 -- Kisha herself arranged for the bus, according to Sheemean Earle, one of the bridesmaids. Earle emailed the newspaper a week after the accident, providing details she hoped might lead to some insight.

"This story isn't adding up," she said. "Someone really needs to come forward so the family can get closure."

Few have, including the Wheelers, who declined to comment.

Earle didn't know why Kisha chose the Wheelers' bus. Maybe she found it through Craigslist or the like, where illegal companies often advertise. Or perhaps it was her Peninsula connections. Kisha lived in a Norfolk neighborhood near Wards Corner but had roots on the other side of the water.

An online search turns up advertising and social media posts for "Rolling With The Wheelers." One video shows the couple announcing their new party bus company to a cheering crowd, then cuts to the bus packed with revelers. That video was posted in July, just a few months before the accident.

Kisha's life and final moments have been difficult to piece together. The few relatives who would speak with reporters shortly after the accident have gone quiet. Messages sent to others who were in her circle or with her that last night have largely gone unanswered. Even Earle has fallen silent.

What happened was surely a horror for all. Colleagues where Kisha worked as a referral coordinator in the dermatology department of Eastern Virginia Medical School have said they're heartbroken.

One co-worker, April McGuire, described her as a "ray of sunshine," and the kind of person "who didn't have a cross word to say about anyone."

Another, Kristen Boone, said Kisha "loved traveling, shopping, going to events ... anything fun."

Earle, in those earlier conversations with the newspaper, said she didn't know Kisha well. Living in South Carolina and married to a cousin of the bride's, Earle was one of the wedding's out-of-towners.

"I'd only met Kisha once before," she said, "at the bridal shower."

Earle said everything was going great that Friday night. The wedding was the next day and the bachelorette party was in full swing.

Kisha was among the bridesmaids who'd gathered at an Oceanfront hotel. Plans called for a late night outing to The Main in downtown Norfolk. The ladies were all dressed up, wearing heels, when the Wheelers' party bus pulled up around midnight.

"There were 13 or 14 of us on the bus," Earle said, "plus the driver and his wife."

Earle recalled the entry door -- a type that's typical on the side of vans. It pops out and slides back. "You climb up two steps to get in."

Inside, it had the amenities that make party buses so popular. Neon lights. Pounding music. Wrap-around leather couches. TV. Bar.

The Wheelers dropped off the women at The Main. By 1 a.m., they were all back on board. The bus was the perfect place to keep the party rolling.

"There was a handrail on top on each side," Earle said, "and we asked the driver, 'Can we stand up?' And he said, 'yes.' Everyone was just so happy -- having fun, laughing, dancing, jumping around in the back of the bus. Except Kisha. She was in the front of the bus."

Earlier reports said Kisha was dancing, too, but Earle said she was "just standing there recording us on her phone."

Michael Wheeler pulled onto Waterside Drive and headed toward the eastbound entrance of I-264.

As the bus climbed the ramp, Earle said, "We felt a sway and a couple of us shifted forward but still had our balance."

Earle said she felt a few bumps, like the bus ran over something. The bridesmaids didn't think anything of it.

They didn't notice that Kisha had lost her footing, tumbled down the steps and slammed into the door.

They had no idea the door had popped open.

They kept dancing.

Until someone started yelling.

"Kisha fell out of the bus! Kisha fell out of the bus!"

This is the second of four 911 calls released by police in this case.

___

For an outsider, it can be tough to even sort out who's keeping an eye on which party buses. Dense codes of regulations covering commercial passenger carriers are thick with chapters, categories and exceptions -- and interpretations from experts sometimes conflict. Authority can switch or split between state and feds, depending on the size of the bus and whether it's known to cross state lines.

In Virginia, company owners are supposed to apply to the DMV for "operating authority," a screening process that confirms a list of requirements are met, like insurance.

It also checks for criminal background. Felony and certain misdemeanor convictions are among the reasons an applicant can be denied.

A search through local court records turns up nothing that would bar Shannan Frazier-Wheeler from obtaining "operating authority" -- had she tried -- for the party bus that was titled in her name.

Had the bus been in her husband's name, though, it's unlikely he could have qualified.

Court records show some traffic violations for Michael Dion Wheeler, including three speeding and two inspection-related infractions, plus a couple of felony convictions.

He served time for using a gun to rob a Farm Fresh in Smithfield in 1992. In 2003, he pleaded guilty to a charge of possessing cocaine.

The bigger the bus ...

The amount of insurance required to operate a party bus depends on the maximum number of passengers it's rated to carry.

A 7-15 passenger bus calls for $1.5 million worth of coverage in Virginia. For a 16-plus bus, it's $5 million.

Both of those passenger numbers include the driver.

Drivers also must follow more stringent licensing requirements based on how many people their bus is built to carry.

The driver of a 16-plus passenger bus is supposed to have a commercial driver's license. CDLs are issued by the state, which must follow federal guidelines.

CDL holders are subject to random drug and alcohol testing, administered by the Federal Motor Carrier Safety Administration, and also have to undergo medical exams.

As a party bus driver, though, Wheeler is acceptable as far as the DMV is concerned. The agency doesn't do background checks on drivers. That's left to the company's discretion. And state police say Wheeler had the type of commercial drivers license required to get behind the wheel of a 16-passenger bus.

A phone call to a number listed for the Wheelers reached a woman who identified herself as Michael Wheeler's wife. She said they don't want to talk about what happened. Even though prosecutors have cleared the couple of any criminal wrongdoing in the accident, litigation looms.

Kisha's family has retained William O'Mara, a personal injury attorney, who declined to comment.

The lawsuit alleges, among other things, that the Wheelers "operated the party bus without inspecting the side door to confirm that it was locked or otherwise secured in such a way that would prevent it from coming open while the party bus was in operation." A hearing is scheduled for September.

Virginia laws, however, could make it difficult for Kisha's family to win the suit.

The commonwealth is one of just four states, plus Washington, D.C., that follow the "pure contributory negligence rule," said Adam Lotkin, a personal injury attorney at Norfolk's Rutter Mills law firm, who's not involved in Kisha's case.

Basically, the rule says that if the person who was injured or killed contributed to their own incident in any way, a civil claim can potentially be barred.

Describing the rule as "draconian" and "archaic," Lotkin said that even if a court finds the plaintiff is only 10% at fault in an accident and the defendant 90%, the plaintiff will be awarded no damages.

Still, in the case of a party bus, where passengers are often drinking alcohol, Lotkin said, "there's a higher standard of care" that suggests a company earning a profit off those guests should be more vigilant.

"If you know that people are going to be going from bar to bar and restaurant and wineries," Lotkin said, "you've got to take better precautions."

Pat Wimberly, a DMV special agent assigned to carrier compliance, says party buses aren't allowed to stock their bars with alcohol. But if passengers bring their own, it's probably legal for them to drink. He's seen party buses with kegs on board. No one has said there was alcohol on Wheeler's bus that night.

Most reputable companies won't allow alcohol in their vehicles, Wimberly said, and insurance companies frown on such things.

Wimberly said party bus passengers are not required to wear seat belts, and there's no rule against standing up.

Wimberly, based in Northern Virginia, wasn't familiar with Kisha's case and wouldn't speculate about the accident. He said some states have secondary regulations that deal with safety and equipment for commercial carriers.

Virginia does not, relying solely on state inspections. Buses can fail inspections if a door can't be properly opened or latched. Buses are also subject to additional federal guidelines dealing with emergency exits.

That Kisha was able to fall through a party bus door came as a surprise to Turner, director of crash and data programs at the Commercial Vehicle Safety Alliance, which is made up of DMV and law enforcement departments nationwide.

"That should never, ever happen," Turner said.

Kisha's aunt, Sandra Marrow, spoke to the paper shortly after the accident. She said the family was reeling from the loss and confused.

"People get jostled into bus doors all the time," Marrow said. "They don't just go out the doors."

This is the third of four 911 calls released by police in this case.

___

There have been eerily similar cases in recent years, including one in Kansas City in 2013 that also happened during a bachelorette party.

In 2017, The Kansas City Star conducted a months-long investigation into party buses, chronicling deaths across the country. A cross-reference with their findings, another report conducted by Washington state's Utilities and Transportation Commission and a search of newspaper stories, reveals as many as 30 party bus-related deaths over the past decade.

Looking to book a reputable party bus?

There are ways to check out companies beforehand.

Start with the Virginia DMV website, which has a section for "authorized motor carriers" and a search function that allows you to plug in a company name. If the name comes up in the results, it means the company is certified with the DMV.

You can also check a company name through the Federal Motor Carrier Safety Administration website, which has a page called SAFER with inspection and crash histories and safety ratings.

Some victims died in crashes, or because they stuck their heads out of a bus and struck an overpass.

Half were killed by a tumble from the bus. In most of those cases, the passenger fell against or accidentally hit an emergency exit lever, causing a door or window to open while the bus was moving.

The Star's investigation discovered another troubling aspect of the party bus industry: Over half -- perhaps as many as two-thirds -- of outfits in the Kansas City area were operating illegally, ignoring state and/or federal regulations.

Those familiar with the industry say that's not surprising. Hunter, the retired operator of Royal Coach, says too many companies dodge the DMV. "Straw owners" cover for those who can't pass background or financial fitness checks. Others file false information, fake addresses and chronically fall short on insurance requirements, which call for policies as high as $5 million.

Some do nothing at all to even attempt to comply with the rules.

"It's expensive to do it right," Hunter said, "and the people who do have a hard time competing with the people who don't have that overhead. It's frustrating."

Hunter says he routinely sees party buses operating in Hampton Roads that he knows are illegal. When he does, he notifies the DMV.

"It seems like it just goes into a black hole," he said. "I can think of at least 10 out there right now that are blatantly illegal."

The DMV says it's doing the best it can with the resources it has.

Tom Penny led DMV field operations until he retired last year. He says the agency had an employee who spent half her time scouring Craigslist ads for illegal outfits.

The DMV would then conduct "blind operations" by calling the numbers listed in the ads, trying to catch them in the act. Sometimes the agency issued notices to shut down or get in compliance. Other times, the DMV issued summonses and took the owners to court.

It's hard to keep up. Buses get disguised with new paint jobs. Names get changed. Brokers act as fronts.

"They just go under the radar," Penny said.

The name of the game for illegal operators, he said, is to keep their vehicles "on the road at all costs. That's the danger to the public."

------

On the 911 tape from that night, dispatchers try to calm the horrified bridesmaids. Several have dialed the emergency number, not realizing others in their group are doing the same thing.

"Ma'am, take a deep breath," a dispatcher urges. "Where on 264? ... what exit?"

A call from a man passing by pinpoints the accident's location. He delivers the directions in the composed voice of someone who's not directly involved and doesn't fully grasp what's just happened:

"There's been an accident involving a vehicle and a pedestrian," he says.

His coolness is a sharp contrast to the bridesmaids. In an instant, their party has turned into a tragedy.

"We need an ambulance!" one cries into the phone, then gets even more upset when a dispatcher tries to talk over her, stating loudly that help is already on the way.

"Don't yell at me," the caller shouts back. "If you could just see her laying in this street. ... I'm in the middle of 264 with a body laying in the street."

Earle told the newspaper that she'd scrambled off the bus as soon as Michael Wheeler hit the brakes.

"The driver stopped and was in shock when he realized what was going on," she said. "I was the first person off of the bus and ran down the hill to where Kisha was on the highway."

Kisha was lying on the pavement facedown, Earle said. "She was already gone. When I touched her forehead it was ice cold."

Earle said two passersby stopped. One helped her roll Kisha onto her back, then disappeared. The other one said a prayer then vanished, too.

Emergency responders screeched in and took over. The bridal party stepped back, milling in the background.

"We were all wanting to know how she fell out of the bus when the door has to be released to be opened," Earle said.

Eventually, police told the women to call for rides. "We called our husbands," Earle said. "We had to walk down the ramp to meet them ... It didn't feel real to me. It didn't hit me that she wasn't with us anymore. Until I left. Driving away with my husband, looking back. Seeing the reflection of the emergency lights on the road."

Kisha died of "multiple blunt force injuries," according to a medical examiner's report. A state police spokeswoman confirmed that after her fall, she'd been run over by the party bus.

Earle said the wedding went on as planned.

"But it was gloomy," she said. "Kisha was supposed to walk down the aisle right in front of me. The groomsman who was supposed to escort her carried a white flower in her honor."

Kisha's funeral was held Nov. 3 in Newport News.

Her mother, Martha Wilson, called the newspaper right before Christmas. She lives in Hampton. She said Kisha was her only daughter.

"My child fell out of a bus and no one cares," she said in a quiet voice. "She should have been safe. I need answers. My child is gone."

This is the final of the four 911 calls released by police in this case.

___

(c)2019 The Virginian-Pilot (Norfolk, Va.)

Visit The Virginian-Pilot (Norfolk, Va.) at pilotonline.com

Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.