PORT ALLEN, La. — The knock on the door Sunday night brought the news every family dreads. Just hours earlier, 34-year-old Tyesha Banford had been full of plans, a mother of two whose recent graduation from a state corrections training academy was her hard-won ticket to a fresh start. Now, police were at her family’s doorstep in Ethel. Tyesha was gone.
On December 28, around 7 p.m., a brutal head-on collision shattered the evening quiet at the intersection of Louisiana Highway 1 and Emily Drive in West Baton Rouge Parish. Tyesha’s vehicle was involved. She suffered fatal injuries and was pronounced dead shortly after. Another person was rushed to a local hospital for treatment. The crash site, a busy Port Allen corridor, is now marked by tire tracks and heartbreak as Louisiana State Police piece together what went wrong.
But this story is far more than a traffic report. To those who loved her, Tyesha was a portrait of resilience. Her recent graduation from the Louisiana Correctional Institute for Women’s Training Academy wasn’t just a certificate; it was a symbol of a life being rebuilt. The program, designed to provide vocational skills for successful reentry into society, was her runway. She had navigated past challenges and was now soaring toward stability for her two young children.
“She was determined to give those babies a good life,” said a close friend, who asked not to be named amidst the grief. “Every step she took was for them. That graduation day, she was beaming. She’d done it.” Friends describe a woman of quiet strength and kindness, whose laughter was infectious and whose focus on her family was absolute.
The sudden void she leaves is devastating. Her children have lost their guiding light. Her family is grappling with a loss that feels especially cruel at the close of the year, a time meant for togetherness and hope. The community of Ethel, a small town where roots run deep, and Port Allen, where her journey was tragically cut short, is now wrapped in a shared mourning.
State Police investigators are working to determine the cause of the head-on collision, a type of crash known for its deadly severity. These incidents, often linked to distraction, impairment, or simple moments of inattention, are a grim and recurring reality on Louisiana roads. Each statistic, as in Tyesha’s case, unravels a world of dreams and relationships.
In response, a wave of support is rising to meet Tyesha’s family. Informal networks are organizing meal trains and discussing how to support her children’s future. The collective grief is tempered by a fierce determination to honor her memory—not as a victim, but as a woman who fought fiercely for her second chance.
Tyesha Banford’s story was one of transformation. Her legacy is not defined by a single tragic moment on a highway, but by the love she gave her children and the powerful example she set: that it is never too late to change your story. Her new chapter was just a few paragraphs in. Though the book is closed too soon, the love she wrote on every page remains.
