Remembrance or Status?

Were Aviators seeking to remember their friend or find status in her death?

The National Institute of Health (NIH) defines susceptibility to social influence (SSI) as “one's tendency to change attitudes, intentions, communication, and behavior in response to others' activities in Online Social Networks (OSNs).”

In the aftermath of Allison’s death, the Navy overlooked several lapses in policy. What role does SSI play in that?

Aviators’ bylines populate Google’s return on Colter’s name, documenting stories of their individual actions and thoughts after Allison’s death. These stories which I didn’t read until 2020, give intimate details of Colter’s loss, leveraging his image, name and rank. Andrea, a Naval Aviator and friend of Allison’s, wrote the majority of them. For the majority of those written by others, she was the catalyst. Colter was on Active Duty at the time of publication. Most were published after our relationship began— more than 18 months after Allison died.

Andrea did not ask Colter for his permission or blessing to use his image, name, or rank. Nor did she post the requisite DoD disclaimer required by all Active Duty Service Members who publish articles.

In recent years, the story links have been removed from Google when one searches Andrea‘s name. Why are the stories still up if you don’t want them in Google’s return on your name?

In 2020 when I read Andrea’s stories for the first time, the article she published in her high school alma mater’s magazine didn’t sit well with me. She begins it with a premise of Allison’s friends and family sending confidential messages to her to be burned at the top of a mountain. As I continued reading, I was baffled because Andrea includes these "confidential" messages in her copy. She never said she had permission to share them with the readers, or that those sending the confidential messages knew she would share them publicly, in her article.

What I wonder— was the whole ‘send messages for Allison to be burned on a mountain’ set up with the intention of Andrea writing about it?

Colter was 28 and grieving a most painful loss, yet Aviators usurped his image, his name, his reputation, his relationship, his privacy, for likes, bylines, quotes, ego?…righteousness?…status?

Colter is a private person, as many might know— while only a few respect.

Colter reached out to publications that posted stories after Allison’s death (and in the years that followed), to remove his name from keywords, photo descriptions, meta search data, etc… some agreed and others didn’t or didn’t even write back. The story still ranking high in Google, by Jeff Adelson, is ripe with inaccuracies. Mr. Adelson of Nola.com doesn’t possess the decency to respond to Colter’s multiple requests for his name be removed.

These inaccuracies— perhaps derived from the Naval Aviators who spoke to the press at Allison’s funeral, or the ones who spoke at the Memorial thrown by the Navy— gave rise to the State of Louisiana’s Official Condolences offered to the ”family.” Yet, the condolences that live online forever—mirroring the information from Mr. Adelson’s article— mention no family members, save for Colter, nor anyone from Louisiana. It merely highlights two other Sailors from her ship.

Those weren’t the only online stories boasting Colter’s name and image— seeking likes.

Hector, does not have photos of his family posted publicly on Facebook, nor does he boast any images of his wife fall-down-drunk, swapping shirts with another man posted for everyone to see. Yet, Hector posted these photos after Allison died, for the world to see.

Colter and Allison would later fight about that night. I don’t think it was a good memory for them. Hector chose to put up a score of images of ‘his friend Allison’ on Facebook set to public, and there they remain. Was it to remember or to let others know he knew the person who died?

The photo I find most troublesome, posted by some Aviator in the image, is the group photo from the immediate aftermath of Allison’s death. There’s a shot at a bar of 20+ Aviators, Colter, his little sister, and many of those mentioned in my stories, all smiling big, posing for what would go on Facebook that night in May 2009. And, then there’s Colter. Solemn. He looks like he’s been crying. He looks like he’s in shock. The corners of his mouth are turned up, attempting to offer a smile for the camera, but he appears physically unable to use his facial muscles. He looks uncomfortable.

Yet, there it remains, on Facebook for anyone to see, that most intimate image of him in the mourning process, in shock— while the rest are posing for Facebook, or simply going along with it because that is what everyone is doing. They are perhaps susceptible to the influence of what everyone is doing, without thinking about it.

Andrea maintains her family’s privacy on social media— she shares no public images of her children or husband. Yet she eliminated the opportunity for us to manage the privacy of our family. She ensured that Colter’s reputation would precede him. She removed the opportunity for him to ever make the choice for himself to let someone into his life. She paraded his loss for strangers to consume and access his personal loss, at his expense— not hers.

And the Navy watched.

Andrea did not have a Public Affairs Officer review submissions, or ask Colter’s permission or blessing to use his name or image in any of the three publications. Yet, she’s removed them from populating when one Googles Andrea Alvord.

Colter called a company recently to discuss his online reputation. They quoted him $1,500 to align search results in Google with where his life is.

That is a lot of money. Shouldn’t the Navy pay for it?

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The Navy is negligent for Andrea’s actions. and our relationship has suffered the consequences of others needs for likes.

Alvin Townley, a senior fellow at the U.S. Naval Academy’s Stockdale Center for Ethical Leadership, an author of several books about the military, has a quote from Colter, at Andrea’s urging. Townley was working against a deadline and needed to speak with Colter. Was it for status?

Townley included the quote in his 2011 book, but failed to unpack it or explain its nature. It feels quite loaded knowing what I know. And now Townley has earned a spot as a “Senior Fellow” at the U.S. Naval Academy, in ethical leadership.

Colter’s quote: “So on May 19 of 2009…I lost my fiancée and my wife.”

Two friends and members of Allison’s HS-6 Squadron published a book of photographs, more than 50 photos, according to Amazon, of Allison at port calls while on deployment overseas. It was published on June 3, 2009, and sold for more than $60 to anyone who wanted it. Colter was never asked for his blessing or permission to do this. Rear Admiral McCall, was CO of the squadron. Did he know or say anything about it? Did it have a PAO’s sign off?

Was there a competition of sorts? Who lost the most when Allison died? Who was her best friend? In 2009, leaving your “forever” mark on the ‘world wide web’ was a new concept. Yet, there was still decency and humanity in the world, still manners, etiquette… Colter wouldn’t know about the book for years.

Perhaps these Sailors did all bring their online imagery to Allison’s funeral— the fall-down-drunk pictures, the image shared on Facebook with her alone in a bikini. Maybe there was a booth out front of her funeral with book sales hosted by her squadron mates. Or…were these actions taken in private, yet shared online, to live forever, so each Sailor could timestamp their loss, for their own gain...

No one is expected to know the appropriate response when such a tragedy occurs. The Navy, its Sailors, are expected to follow policy no matter the situation, as are Navy civilian employees.

You see the Navy’s finance employees adhered to DoD/ Navy policy in a timely manner regarding Colter’s death benefits immediately following— or perhaps leading up to— our wedding. The Navy also began SECRETLY tracking Colter, as Allison’s “husband,” at the address he shared with me, in real time, AFTER our wedding. After his death benefits ended and at the direction of the CNO.

Now believe me, I was clear I wanted no part of Allison’s death benefits. The last thing I needed was something that felt like blood money, something that would make it impossible to get out from under the bullying, the meanness, and impending avalanche from the Navy’s growing snowball effect Of what it calls, “Remembrance.”

Unfortunately, because of the Navy, we never would get away from it. The Navy’s appropriation of the grief, the experience, the loss, of its own highly honorable, humbly serving Sailor, is…simply for the Navy’s own status.

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