“She should never be allowed to profit from what she did.”

Those words have become a mission for Christine Russo, whose family continues to live with the devastating consequences of a tragedy that forever altered their lives. Nearly four years after the fatal crash that claimed the lives of her brother, Dominic Russo, and his friend, Davion Flanagan, the grief remains as raw as ever.

For Christine and her family, the pain never ended when the courtroom proceedings concluded. Instead, they say the emotional devastation has only evolved, resurfacing whenever public attention returns to the case.

Now, renewed interest generated by Netflix’s documentary The Crash has reopened old wounds and reignited fears that the convicted killer at the center of the tragedy could eventually gain the fame and attention she allegedly sought long before the deadly incident occurred.

Speaking from her family home near the site of the crash, Christine described the emotional toll that the loss of her younger brother has taken on everyone who loved him.

“Our family has never recovered,” she said. “People think time heals everything, but some losses become part of your life forever. You learn to survive them, but you never truly move past them.”

Dominic Russo was just 20 years old when he died in July 2022. His close friend Davion Flanagan was only 19.

Prosecutors successfully argued that Mackenzie Shirilla intentionally drove her vehicle into a brick building at an extremely high speed, killing both young men instantly. The case shocked Ohio and eventually attracted national attention due to the ages of those involved and the disturbing circumstances surrounding the crash.

In 2023, Shirilla was convicted of murder and sentenced to two concurrent prison terms of 15 years to life.

Yet for the Russo family, the conviction brought only limited comfort.

“No sentence can give us Dominic back,” Christine explained. “Every birthday, every holiday, every family gathering reminds us that someone is missing.”

Friends describe Dominic as energetic, loyal, and deeply devoted to those around him. His absence continues to leave a void that family members say can never be filled.

The release of The Crash documentary has introduced the case to a new audience, but Christine worries that the attention generated by the film could have unintended consequences.

Rather than focusing solely on the victims, she fears the spotlight could eventually elevate the person responsible for their deaths.

That concern has inspired her family to launch a public campaign aimed at strengthening Ohio’s existing Son of Sam laws.

The legislation was originally designed to prevent criminals from profiting from the publicity surrounding their crimes through books, movies, interviews, or similar commercial opportunities.

However, Christine believes the law no longer reflects the realities of the digital era.

“We’re living in a completely different world now,” she said. “People don’t need book deals anymore. They can become influencers overnight.”

The family’s petition, titled Dom’s Law: Victims Before Influencers, seeks to expand legal protections to cover modern forms of monetization, including social media partnerships, sponsorship agreements, online branding opportunities, paid content, and other internet-driven revenue streams.

Support for the campaign has grown rapidly, with hundreds of thousands of people expressing sympathy for the family’s concerns.

According to Christine, the issue extends beyond traditional media appearances.

She worries that notoriety itself has become a valuable commodity in the social media age.

“What scares us is how quickly attention can turn into opportunity,” she explained. “A person can gain followers, attract sponsors, and build an entire platform from public fascination.”

Those fears are amplified by allegations regarding Shirilla’s behavior both before and after her conviction.

Christine claims that attention and public recognition were always important to Shirilla, describing someone who enjoyed social media visibility and dreamed of entering the modeling industry.

“She always wanted attention,” Christine said. “That was what mattered most.”

Reports from former inmates have further fueled controversy.

Several individuals who reportedly served time alongside Shirilla claimed she displayed little remorse while incarcerated. They described her as socially active, image-conscious, and focused on maintaining popularity within the prison environment.

While such accounts remain difficult to independently verify, they have strengthened public debate surrounding the case.

For the Russo family, these stories only deepen their frustration.

“What hurts is seeing someone continue to focus on themselves while families are left dealing with unimaginable loss,” Christine said.

Adding to their concerns is the possibility that financial benefits could potentially flow through third parties.

Current laws primarily focus on preventing convicted offenders themselves from directly profiting from crimes. Christine believes additional safeguards may be necessary to address situations involving relatives or intermediaries.

“We want to make sure there aren’t loopholes,” she explained. “Victims’ families shouldn’t have to worry about someone benefiting financially from a tragedy.”

The campaign has already attracted the attention of lawmakers.

Recent legislative proposals in Ohio have sought to expand existing restrictions to cover modern fundraising platforms and other digital methods of generating income.

For supporters of reform, the issue represents a broader challenge facing legal systems nationwide as technology continues to evolve.

The Russo family hopes their advocacy can create lasting change.

“We can’t change what happened,” Christine said. “But maybe we can prevent future victims’ families from going through something similar.”

The emotional impact of the case extends beyond legal questions.

Christine remains deeply critical of what she views as a lack of accountability among those closest to Shirilla.

She believes parenting decisions and family dynamics may have contributed to the behavior that ultimately resulted in tragedy.

While acknowledging that responsibility for the crime rests with the individual convicted, she argues that warning signs were overlooked.

“There were opportunities for accountability,” she said. “And those opportunities were missed.”

Former acquaintances have expressed similar opinions, suggesting that boundaries were often blurred and discipline was inconsistent.

Those perspectives have fueled ongoing public discussions about parental responsibility, personal accountability, and the influence of family environments on behavior.

For Christine, however, the debate is intensely personal rather than theoretical.

Every conversation eventually returns to the same reality: her brother is gone.

Among the most painful moments for the family were comments featured in the documentary suggesting that Dominic and Shirilla might have remained together or even married had the crash never occurred.

Christine strongly rejected that narrative.

In her view, such claims distort the reality of their relationship and risk romanticizing circumstances that ended in devastating loss.

“People create stories after tragedies,” she said. “But we knew Dominic. We knew his life, his goals, and the future he was building.”

She believes those memories deserve protection from revision or speculation.

More than anything, the family wants the public to remember who the victims were.

Friends describe Davion Flanagan as compassionate, ambitious, and deeply loved by those around him. Like Dominic, he had dreams, plans, and a future that was abruptly taken away.

The documentary may have reignited public fascination with the case, but Christine hopes audiences look beyond the headlines and courtroom drama.

Behind every news story, she says, are real families living with permanent consequences.

“There’s a tendency to focus on the person at the center of the crime,” she reflected. “But the real story is what happens afterward—the birthdays missed, the empty chairs, the families trying to rebuild.”

As legal appeals continue and public attention grows, the Russo family remains committed to honoring Dominic’s memory through advocacy and reform.

For them, the fight is no longer only about justice.

It is about ensuring that tragedy is never transformed into opportunity.

And despite the years that have passed, Christine admits that life without her brother still feels surreal.

“Some mornings,” she said quietly, “it still feels like a nightmare you expect to wake up from.”

But the reality remains unchanged.

Dominic is gone.

Davion is gone.

And for the families left behind, the impact of that July day continues to echo through every part of their lives.