The notes are the kind drug counselors have mothers in treatment write to their children. They're known as "victim letters."

But Monica wasn't in rehab long enough to do that.

One read: "I'm so sorry for hurting you. You trusted me and I let you down. I miss that happy spark you used to have in your eyes. You seem so sad now. It's my fault! All my fault. All those mornings and days you were alone. You would starve. I love you so much. Please forgive me."

Monica called her mother the night she ran from her abusive boyfriend and wasn't allowed into the detox center. Ruhlmann had made her home off limits because Monica had stolen from her. But she couldn't ignore the fear in her youngest daughter's voice. Monica spent the next couple of days at her mother's before abruptly packing a suitcase and saying on the way out, "You can't stop me."

Ruhlmann next saw her daughter at LDS Hospital. Monica was already dead.

In thinking about how to ensure a young woman with so much promise didn't die in vain, Ruhlmann suggested a billboard on I-15 reading, "Meth Equals Death" along with two photos. One of the healthy, smiling Monica and one of the Monica families don't put in a funeral montage.

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