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West Point • Malachi Darcey's friend threw herself over his body, cradling his head in her arms and covering as much of his torso as she could.
She screamed at the half-dozen assailants to stop, but they kept kicking Darcey's head as he lay unconscious in the parking lot of the Outlaw Saloon.
A stranger from the West Haven bar tried to pull off the attackers; another patron stood in the cool August night air, frantically calling 911.
When the violence subsided, Darcey's friend pulled back from his body. His mouth was filled with blood, and he was barely breathing.
He drew his last unassisted breath just as the ambulance pulled into the parking lot.
Medics used a defibrillator to restart his heart, once on the pavement and again in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.
But it was too late.
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Blue Christmas • Babette Darcey has boxes of tissues in nearly every room of her house, never knowing when a memory may start the tears flowing. A yard sign bearing the brightly colored words "Happy Birthday" is her son's only present under the flocked tree that fills her front room. The family plans to drive it into the frozen ground in front of his West Point tombstone on his birthday: Christmas Day.
She wishes he had acted more like the patient, kind man she saw caring for her granddaughters instead of getting out of his car to confront the strangers who yelled insults at his girlfriend Aug. 29. She wishes there had been less alcohol flowing and more light in the bar's parking lot so the men who beat her son to death could pay for their crime.
The family was told Monday that prosecutors cannot make a solid case against any of Darcey's attackers, and no charges will be filed.
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Family man • As a child, Darcey was something of a mechanical miracle worker. When his uncle and father couldn't fix a Vespa scooter, it was 12-year-old Malachi who finally made it run.
As a teenager, he built a four-wheel-drive truck from the chassis up. When his younger brother, Isaac, did the same years later, they took them out on Highway 89 to see whose could go farther. Malachi's truck zoomed down the street while Isaac's broke down.
Competition with his four siblings was a rare thing. Instead, he was the big brother who would invite his younger sister along on dates and take her off-campus to avoid a high school cafeteria lunch. He would stay up all night playing video games with his two brothers, who together were known as the Darcey Boys at Sorensen Construction Inc., where all three worked at some point in their careers.
"Those three were nearly inseparable," his sister Cheryl O'Neal said.
But it was while watching him interact with his two daughters that Darcey's patient, kind and fun-loving persona was most evident.
In a home video posted on his mother's Facebook page, Darcey squeezes into a tiny children's pop-up cottage with his oldest daughter, 4-year-old MaKiya, and their dog Zoee for a homemade muffin and tea party.
Darcey was famous for his baked goods — cherry cream pie, lemon meringue pie, lemon bars and no-bake chocolate cookies.
"I wasn't allowed to make them," said his mother. "It was always something he insisted on making."
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The final moments • Malachi Darcey had spent the two weeks before his Aug. 30 death with his family. He went to Lava Hot Springs, Idaho, with his brother Isaac and his 6- and 8-year-old nephews. The week after, he celebrated his daughter BreKlyn's third birthday a week early.
Darcey separated from his wife at the end of 2009 and met his new girlfriend, Sarah Whittaker, on April 10. They moved into the house behind his parents' pasture in June. The night of Aug. 28 the couple went out with some of his childhood friends.
As they were leaving the Outlaw Saloon in the early morning of Aug. 29, a group of men in the parking lot started shouting "whore" and "slut" at Whittaker, who was driving Darcey home. Malachi and Sarah got out of their car to confront the group. Behind them, another friend ran out of her vehicle, trying to talk the couple back into their car. By then, one man had punched Sarah in the face. Malachi's brother, Micah, also was punched.
"The friend stood in between Malachi and the men, begging him to get back in his car, but then one of the men came around and punched Malachi," his mother said.
Malachi hit the ground, fracturing his skull and knocking him unconscious. The men kept attacking. A friend protectively threw herself over his body, not knowing his brain was already too badly damaged to recover.
"I just don't understand why they kept attacking," Babette Darcey said Thursday through streaming tears. "He was no threat; he was already unconscious."
At the hospital, a doctor told her was there was no hope for her son's recovery. A second doctor told her it was time to let him go.
"I couldn't let him go," she said Thursday, clutching a 3-by-5-inch laminated photo of her son she constantly wears on a necklace, even in her sleep.
They waited 24 hours, but medicine used to keep his blood pressure from tanking only put added pressure on his already-damaged brain.
"The nurses told me that he was trying to send us a message," Babette Darcey said.
They turned off the life-support machines.
He couldn't draw a single breath on his own.
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A difficult case • On Monday, the Weber County Attorney's Office called the family in for a conference about Darcey's case.
The family had waited patiently for the medical examiner's report, for investigators to collect evidence and witness statements, and had stayed out of the media for the sake of gaining resolution.
But it was for naught — no charges will be filed in Malachi Darcey's beating death.
"This is the only case I've seen quite like this," said Weber County Attorney Dee Smith. "Part of the problem was the lighting, the number of people involved, the amount of alcohol consumed. Those factors made it impossible to say with any degree of certainty who did what actions."
Another complicating factor is that Darcey exited a vehicle to confront the men, Smith said.
"It brings up the question of self-defense," he said.
In the police reports, some of the assailants admit to kicking Darcey when he was lying on the ground, but it was the blow that knocked him off his feet that resulted in his death, Smith said.
"We feel bad for the family, we understand they lost a loved one," he said. "We spent a lot of hours looking for a way to prosecute this case, but all three prosecutors reviewed this and found we could not prosecute this case."
Those are difficult words for the Darcey family to hear. They hope someone may still come forward with information that would aid prosecutors.
"He was a good person, a nice man with children," Cheryl O'Neal said. "His loss will be ours forever, and there will be so many things he will miss."
Babette Darcey looks at her two granddaughters, knowing they don't yet realize how much they will miss their father at their graduations, weddings and celebrations of their own children's births.
"Those men who did this, they get birthdays and Christmases and they get to go to parties," Babette Darcey said. "Maybe they didn't mean to kill him, but they should take responsibility and pay with a couple of years. It won't bring Malachi back, but it would be some kind of justice."