HARTFORD — Kim Poirier spent years averting her eyes from the Quechee Gorge Bridge as she crossed over, if not avoiding it altogether.
But when Poirier took the route over the Ottauquechee River more recently, she felt different.
“It was the first time I had driven over that bridge and not felt the dread of going there,” Poirier said Monday at her Wilder home.
Construction on the bridge came to an end after about three years, with the 115-year-old tourist landmark more structurally sound, and most importantly to Poirer, safer.
Gone are the old, far lower guardrails and the chain-link fencing, replaced by towering 9-foot-high, curved green arches. The steel barriers hold the hope of community members who want to mitigate the enduring tragedy of suicides at Vermont’s deepest natural canyon.
In February 2014, Poirier’s husband, Mike Hayward Jr., unexpectedly took his life at the Quechee Gorge Bridge at the age of 42.
Between May 2014 and April 2026, police responded to 79 suicide-related incidents near the gorge, with seven resulting in death. The others were attempts or ideations. The state put up a temporary fence in 2018. The pre-fence average was about 10.9 incidents per year, and the post-fence average dropped to 4.1 incidents per year, according to a Hartford Police study.
Nick Martin, the executive director of the Vermont chapter of the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), compared the new barriers to the 72-hour waiting requirement to purchase a firearm. The two share an essential purpose: giving time for someone who’s thinking about suicide to reconsider, or for intervention.
In some cases, even an extra minute is enough.
“That 60 seconds, 90 seconds could be life-saving,” Martin said Thursday by phone.
Improvements to the bridge can’t bring back the lives already lost, but for Poirier and two other community members whose loved ones died there, it’s a beautiful sight to see. They hope their stories can bring awareness to a sensitive topic that’s seldom discussed.
‘We didn’t see it’
Regina-Anne and David Cooper lost their 21-year-old son, Derek Cooper, to suicide at the gorge in 2011.
“He wasn’t talking about it, what he was struggling with, so we didn’t see it,” Regina-Anne Cooper said in an interview.
Derek, a Woodstock Union High graduate, studied criminal justice at Lebanon College. He served as a firefighter and police cadet, and volunteered at the American Trauma Life Support Program at Dartmouth Hitchcock Medical Center.
Derek, who was a talented artist and a music enthusiast, enjoyed outdoor sports most of all. He worked two jobs — at Harmony Farm and at Mike’s Store, both in Hartland.
As discussions about making the bridge safer were underway, the Coopers, along with other impacted families, helped inspire a 2016 legislative proposal by then-Rep. Teo Zagar calling for fencing and some form of mitigation at the bridge, which was folded into Act 158, a Vermont Agency of Transportation capital program bill.
One priority of the Coopers’ efforts was to bring more attention to the difficulties first responders have faced when called out to the bridge. On top of the trauma or PTSD that may come from handling those situations, the retrieval process needed improvement.
“Derek was a first responder. His twin brother was, his father was,” said Cooper’s mother, who added that the manner of lifting emergency personnel down is now safer.
Proponents of the bill argued that if a crosswalk by a school had the same number of fatalities, it would’ve been addressed right away.
Regina-Anne Cooper recalled a mixed reaction when she spoke at a legislative hearing in March 2018, as some business and tourism groups opposed adding barriers, fearing they would change the gorge’s visual aesthetic.
But legislators needed to set those worries aside, she said.
“You have the lives of these people in your responsibility and in your hands, and if you choose not to do something about this, this is just going to continue, and that’s on you,” said Cooper.
In an email campaign, the Coopers asked people to contact the legislature to explain why the barriers matter. Thousands of digital testimonials crashed the email system that day, Cooper recalled.
The project became more tangible after an inspection of the bridge showed it required substantial work.
Town of Hartford officials, state project managers and the public discussed adding permanent rails. The state put up a chain-link fence in 2018, before construction began.
“I didn’t like it, but it was better than nothing. I don’t think it stopped anything, but it may have slowed people down a little,” said Cooper.
As for the permanent railings, Cooper isn’t certain they’ll be totally effective, and had hoped for a little more height. Still, she’s pleased to see it.
“I think it’s beautifully done. It feels safe when you’re there,” said Cooper.
Looking back on the time of the discussions, there was so much stigma surrounding the topic of suicide that some people refused to accept it happened in their own family, said Cooper, but silently supported the efforts.
While the railings are a physical form of prevention, warning signs and mental health assistance can save lives before anyone ever gets to the bridge, said Martin at NAMI’s Vermont Chapter.
Expressing interest in self-harm or making a plan are clear indicators of suicidal ideation, but there are other things to look out for: seeking access to lethal means, such as a firearm, giving away prized possessions or acting out of character, Martin said.
Martin noted that along with mental health struggles, difficult life circumstances can also trigger suicidal ideation, including losing a job or financial insecurity, homelessness, natural disasters or loss of a loved one — though it’s different for everyone.
“Sometimes it might come completely out of the blue,” said Martin. “And family members, close friends, had no idea.”
One of the most common misconceptions Cooper has heard is that it’s the parents’ fault when their child dies by suicide. People also assume that no matter what, those who are thinking about suicide will find a way to do it, but that’s statistically not true, she said.
A Harvard public health study found that 9 out of 10 people who attempt suicide do not go on to die by suicide.
‘A shock’ to everyone
For two months after the winter day when Mike Hayward took his life, he was considered a missing person. It wasn’t until his body was discovered that Poirier and her family knew for sure what happened.
“It was a shock, not only to me, but to everyone in the community,” said Poirier.
“People just couldn’t believe it,” she added.
Mike grew up in New London and later studied English at the University of New Hampshire. He married Poirier in 2007 and worked at his parents’ heating and air conditioning company. Mike enjoyed music, football and baseball, was an avid reader and had an active role in the community.
“He could strike up a conversation with anybody. He was just fun to be around,” said Poirier.
The couple welcomed their now-16-year-old son, Garrett, in 2010. Poirier described Hayward as “the fun parent.”
“He was a phenomenal, phenomenal dad, just did everything for Garrett,” said Poirier.
While her husband had, in hindsight, been struggling leading up to his death, he didn’t talk about it. Being the kind and selfless person Poirier fell in love with, she feels Mike tended to put himself last and put his energy into everyone else.
A couple of years after Mike’s death, the town and state began holding hearings to discuss safety measures for the bridge, though Poirier chose to step back from the conversation for her own mental health.
Poirier wonders if the barriers at the bridge would have made a difference for her husband. She said that in many cases, the decision can be impulsive.
“These are real people,” said Poirier. “These are your neighbors, these are your friends, these are your coworkers, and it impacts a lot more people than you think.”
But now, knowing it won’t be that easy anymore has brought Poirier peace.
“I don’t know what it was this weekend, I just looked and I saw those green barriers, and I was like, ‘This is awesome,'” said Poirier.
She got remarried in 2021 to Shawn Poirier, who she said has been an incredible support and adopted Garrett.
Garrett hopes people understand that death by suicide is not something to joke about, which he has seen firsthand at school, he said Monday at their home.
‘He was a great kid’
Mary Perry leaves flowers at the Quechee Gorge Bridge, where her son took his life, twice a year: on his birthday, June 29, 1995, and on the anniversary of his death, January 28, 2018.
“I’m not afraid to talk about it. I mean, it helps me,” Perry said at an interview outside her job at the Lebanon Co-op.
Matthew Perry, a 2013 Hartford High School graduate, was a great kid who enjoyed spending time with his friends and playing video games, Mary Perry said. As a hobby, he built and repaired things, such as computers.
At the time of his death, only a short railing existed at the bridge, about 3 1/2 feet tall, the Valley News reported. She had her concerns even before then, particularly the risk to children walking on the bridge.
“They should have done something years and years ago,” Perry said, adding that it seemed like people avoided the conversation because they liked the view.
Twice before January of 2018, Matthew attempted to take his life at the gorge, described by Perry as an “easy place to do it.” The first time was in August 2017. When a friend of his contacted his mother, she rushed over and Matthew was admitted at Dartmouth Hitchcock and later released.
The second attempt took place in December. Perry went to retrieve Matthew alongside police.
“He was just staring straight ahead. I mean, it was like he wasn’t in there. He wasn’t there,” said Perry.
While Matthew made it to the hospital in December, he died at the bridge one month later. Mary Perry recalled racing over to her son. She was 10 minutes too late.
“You don’t know what it’s like to lose your child to suicide, that’s like the worst thing,” said Perry. “And then you see them at the bottom of the gorge.”
Perry feels that the signs before the bridge instructing people in crisis to call the help line aren’t helpful for someone in the state of mind her son was in. A physical barrier is the only immediately effective method, she said.
While Perry remembers listening silently to the discussions in town and hearing people complain about the project possibly harming business near the gorge, she is happy to see the barriers up now, adding that it doesn’t seem to spoil the atmosphere for tourists.
Perry first saw the railings in June when one side was done. She, like Cooper, felt they could have been higher, but is overall glad to finally see a permanent solution she believes will reduce the number of suicides.
Shea Harris, a community support specialist who responds alongside Hartford police to incidents involving mental health, said that simply checking in on someone who’s demonstrating suicidal behavior can help tremendously. It might look like casually asking a friend how they’re doing, or letting them know you’re concerned and that they have the space to share.
“Sometimes, they just want someone to see them for who they are,” said Harris.
The idea that talking about suicide encourages it is wrong, as reaching out can save a life, said Martin.
For those struggling themselves but unsure what to do, Harris suggests they confide in someone — anyone who they feel comfortable with — including herself or a crisis counselor.
Looking back 15 to 20 years ago, mental health was a more daunting topic, said NAMI’s Martin. Fewer resources and treatments existed back then. However, social isolation during COVID-19 seemed to bring concerns about mental health to the forefront. Specifically, young people have shown a lot of engagement and interest in self-care, he said.
“That’s what we’ve told our kids, is ‘There is nothing you can’t overcome,'” said Poirier. “‘You reach out and you ask for help,’ that ‘We’re here for you.'”
If you need help
Those experiencing a mental health crisis can call or text the National Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988 for immediate support. In Hartford, individuals in crisis can call 802-295-9425 to speak with a dedicated mental health liaison and connect with support services.
