It’s the kind of news that hits a small town like a gut punch—Stuart Hulin, a 35-year-old local guy everyone seemed to know and like, lost his life in a devastating single-vehicle crash earlier this week. The St. Martinville community is reeling, with friends and family sharing stories of his easy smile and helping hand, now grappling with a void that’s hard to fill. Louisiana State Police broke the news that Hulin succumbed to his injuries at a nearby hospital, turning what started as a routine evening drive into an unimaginable nightmare for those who loved him.
The accident unfolded on Tuesday, November 26, just after 6 p.m., on Louisiana Highway 86 near Big Don Lane in Iberia Parish. Troopers got the call and rushed to the scene, where they found Hulin’s car flipped over after veering off the road. He was badly hurt, trapped in the wreckage, and first responders worked feverishly to get him out and stabilize him before airlifting him to medical care. But despite all that hustle, the damage was too severe, and he didn’t make it through the night.
From what investigators have pieced together so far, Hulin was heading east on LA-86, a stretch of road that’s no stranger to twists and turns. His vehicle couldn’t handle one of those sharp curves, shooting off the pavement and rolling over. It’s the sort of thing that happens in a blink, but right now, no one’s sure exactly why—maybe the road, maybe the car, or something else entirely. The state police are digging deep, treating this like they do any fatal crash, because getting to the bottom of it matters, especially for a community that’s already hurting.
As standard procedure goes, they took a toxicology sample from Hulin and shipped it off for testing. These things aren’t quick; it could be weeks before results come back, shedding light on whether alcohol, drugs, or fatigue played any part. Meanwhile, troopers are combing through everything else: the weather that night was clear but cooling off, the highway’s notorious for its narrow lanes and blind spots, and they’re checking the vehicle’s condition, skid marks, and talking to anyone who might’ve seen something. It’s thorough work, the kind that honors the life lost.
Stuart Hulin wasn’t just a name in a report; he was a fixture in St. Martinville, the kind of neighbor who’d stop to chat or lend a tool without a second thought. Folks around town are whispering about how vibrant he was, maybe coaching little league or grabbing coffee at the local spot—details that make his absence feel all the more raw. No one’s released much about his family yet, respecting their privacy in this tough time, but the ripples are everywhere, from hushed conversations at the grocery to posts online pouring out love and prayers.
This tragedy shines a harsh light on those rural roads like LA-86, where a momentary lapse can turn deadly. Tight bends, drop-offs with no guardrails, and traffic that’s light but unforgiving—it’s a reminder that even familiar routes demand your full attention. Hulin’s crash isn’t the first there, and locals have long called for better signage or shoulders, but change comes slow in places like this. It’s got people talking, wondering if something could’ve been done to prevent it.
The Louisiana State Police wrapped up their initial statement with heartfelt condolences to Hulin’s family and friends, the ones left picking up the pieces. They’re reminding everyone to buckle up, slow down on curves, and never drive distracted—words that feel all too real after a loss like this. The probe’s still open, and more info might trickle out as they finalize things, but for now, St. Martinville’s focus is on healing, honoring Stuart in the ways that matter most to a tight-knit group like theirs.
