Erika Brannock picked a short, bright blue dress to wear for Boston Marathon bomber Dzhokhar Tsarnaev's sentencing, one that showed her amputated leg.
She borrowed the summer dress from her best friend to show the world she wasn't in mourning and, in a way, to feel she wasn't alone when she faced Tsarnaev in a Boston courtroom this week to describe the ways her life has changed since the attack.
"I really wanted to stand there and say what had happened to me, and how it affected me," the 31-year-old Timonium woman said from her condominium Friday.
"I wanted to make sure that everybody there knew it was not taking me down, that I was moving forward from it. In a sense, that part of it helped me to close that book and move on to a new book in my series."
Brannock was standing near the marathon finish line in April 2013 with her sister and brother-in-law, waiting for her mother when the first of two bombs exploded. The attack killed three people and injured more than 250 others.
Tsarnaev was sentenced to death on Wednesday.
Brannock fills her life with symbols, like the dress, from which she draws strength: the brand new dragonfly tattoo on her forearm, the kitten named Fenway that bounded across the living floor and a "Boston Strong" magnet on her dishwasher.
In the two years since the bombing, Brannock has had 21 surgeries and learned how to walk again using a prosthetic leg. Now she must give up her beloved career as a preschool teacher.
She no longer has the strength to stand all day or match the frenetic pace of little feet. And, more importantly, Brannock said she can't trust herself to move quickly enough should a child's life be in danger. She recalled a fire drill when she couldn't walk down a steep and slippery hill with the children because she was too unsteady on her prosthetic leg.
"I wouldn't be doing the kids any service by trying to force myself to do it," Brannock said. "I don't ever want to do something that hinders their learning and be that kind of distraction. It didn't feel right anymore."
Brannock worked at Davenport Preschool in Towson and elsewhere as a student teacher while trying to earn her master's degree program in early childhood education.
She had to leave the program one semester before graduation. It was painful, she said, to admit that her chosen profession would be too physically grueling for her.
But she hasn't given up. She still wants to work with children and recently started a new online program for a master's degree in psychology. She wants to specialize in helping children facing trauma.
She is pursuing a career as a "child life specialist" so that she can work with children admitted to the hospital, preparing for surgery or getting ready to go home with an illness or an injury.
"It's like one-on-one teaching," Brannock said.
Brannock also does speaking engagements, and she's writing a children's book focused on helping children understand that "when hard things happen to you, it's not going to defeat you." The main character will be a dragonfly, which symbolizes change for some and for her represents strength over adversity.
Liz Harlan, owner of Davenport Preschool, said Brannock made a difficult — but sensible — decision in leaving. And Brannock's decision to work with children in distress makes perfect sense, Harlan said.
"She has the passion for kids already and knows kids incredibly well, and she's been through a huge crisis herself and come out on top," Harlan said. "She could be an encouraging voice. It's an excellent way for her to use her experience in a positive way, and still be able to have an impact on children."
Brannock said she expects to finish her graduate program and start working by 2017. In the meantime, her mobility continues to improve.
She only uses a wheelchair these days to rest her right ankle while she's at home. She occasionally uses a cane but mostly walks without assistance. She'll undergo her 22nd surgery Monday to remove more scar tissue on her right leg.
In the courtroom Wednesday, she described the extent of her injuries — holes in both eardrums, nails and BBs lodged under her skin from the homemade bomb, panic attacks brought on by flashbacks, fractured bones, the near loss of her right leg, and the amputation of her left leg.
"That day will never leave me no matter the amount of time or therapy I have," Brannock testified. "The long-term financial burdens I will experience will be with me for the rest of my life. … What [happened to me] did not break my spirit or my drive."
Brannock refuses to speak Tsarnaev's name or discuss her reaction to his sentence. She did say she broke down sobbing to hear her mother, Carol Downing, describe her own "invisible injuries."
Downing was a half-mile from the finish line when the bombs exploded. Brannock and her sister and brother-in-law, Nicole and Michael Gross of Charlotte, N.C., were separated during the chaos. Michael Gross received burns and lacerations while Nicole Gross suffered broken bones and serious injury to her legs.
Downing, a retired massage therapist from Monkton, has mostly remained out of the public spotlight over the past two years, accompanying her daughters to surgeries, physical therapy appointments and media interviews. She described her anguish for the first time publicly in the courtroom.
"Consider the exhaustion of running almost a full marathon only to find out that your children were severely injured as they waited to see their mother to cross the finish line," Downing said, according to her prepared impact statement.
"Most people who run a marathon need a week or more to recover, but I was immediately thrown into an emotional marathon that tested my mental and physical abilities for more than two years."
Downing said she worries about her daughters' futures and is tormented by the scars that cover their bodies.
"I have had to be strong for my daughters while I was falling apart myself," she testified. "Many nights I would sit at the dinner table with my husband and sob from physical and mental exhaustion and guilt, the guilt of placing my children at the finish line as I ran the marathon."
Brannock said fellow survivor Rebekah Gregory, who also lost a leg in the bombing, held her hand and hugged her while Downing spoke.
And when Downing sat down, Brannock said, it was her turn to speak.
"I knew the emotion I was feeling had to come out. As soon as I had sat down, it was as if a weight had been lifted," Brannock said. "It felt like it was done.
"I looked at Rebekah and I said, 'It's over.'"
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