“She Didn’t Cause That Crash”: A Mother’s Fight for Justice for Camille Dennis-Bond

For nearly four years, Crystal Bond has lived in two worlds: one as a full-time property manager, the other as a relentless advocate for her daughter, Camille Dennis-Bond, who is serving a 15-year prison sentence for a crash her family insists she did not cause.

In April 2021, a tragedy on a Burnsville road claimed two lives and forever altered the course of the Dennis-Bond family. Authorities said two cars — one driven by 17-year-old Leon Dennis-Bond and another by his then 19-year-old sister Camille — were racing when Leon’s vehicle struck another, killing two passengers and injuring his twin sister, Cionna.

Leon spent about a year in juvenile detention. Camille was charged with third-degree murder, criminal vehicular homicide, and other felonies. Despite not being behind the wheel of the car that caused the crash, she was convicted and sentenced to 15 years in prison.

“My Daughter Was Traumatized — Not a Killer”

Crystal disputes the narrative that Camille was responsible. She says Camille never struck the victims’ car and only ran back to the scene after seeing her siblings in the wreckage. What prosecutors seized on, Crystal says, were words Camille shouted in shock after seeing Cionna gravely injured.

“She said, ‘If that girl isn’t dead, I’ll kill her myself,’” Crystal recalled. “Those were words out of trauma. She had just seen her little sister’s intestines on the road. That doesn’t make her a murderer. That makes her human.”

Crystal also points to inconsistencies in the state’s case. She says there were no tire marks behind Camille’s car to indicate sudden braking or swerving, undermining claims that she was speeding or racing. Even state patrol testimony suggested Camille’s car never made contact. Still, prosecutors argued she bore responsibility because she was the “adult.”

Crystal believes the case against her daughter was built on shaky ground. She claims witnesses changed their stories and that someone even offered her younger daughter $1,000 to testify against Camille. Cionna recalls a man with cash and a written statement approaching her outside the courtroom.

“I believe they were paying people to say what they wanted,” Crystal said.

A Tale of Two Sentences

For Crystal, the contrast in how her children were treated underscores a deeper injustice. Leon, the driver who struck the victims, was prosecuted in juvenile court and eventually released. Camille, just two years older, was charged as an adult and given one of the harshest sentences possible.

“They tried to certify Leon as an adult, but the judge said he didn’t have a record, no gun charges, nothing,” Crystal said. “But Camille? They threw her life away. How do you give 15 years to the one who didn’t hit anyone?”

She recalls the judge repeating, “We really can’t touch Leon, he’s a minor,” while assigning all responsibility to Camille.

Life and Growth Behind Bars

Despite the harsh sentence, Camille has sought to better herself. She recently earned her associate’s degree while incarcerated and was accepted into a paralegal program.

L to R: Crystal, Camille and Cionna celebrating Camille earning her associate's degree while in Shakopee prison.

“I’m very proud of her,” Crystal said. “She’s helping other women inside, even though she’s the youngest of them all.”

Camille has not seen her brother in four years because of restrictions tied to the case, though Crystal is pushing to allow a reunion now that his case is closed. “She just wants to see him,” Crystal said. “They’ve always been close.”

A Family Under Pressure

The ordeal has taken a heavy toll on the Dennis-Bond family. Crystal says she had to change a phone number she’d had for 30 years after receiving threats from people calling her “the mother of a murderer.” She says she often feels watched in public, but holds onto her faith: “God knows our beginning and our end.”

Despite the ongoing struggle, the Bond family remains close-knit. They share phone calls with Camille, laughing together the way they always did before. “We used to call it ‘Laugh Hour,’” Crystal said. “That’s the bond we’ve always had.”

A Mother’s Plea

Since the conviction, Crystal has written hundreds of letters — to the NAACP, Innocence Project, Governor Tim Walz, Attorney General Keith Ellison, and members of Congress. For years, she received no answers. But recently, she’s had some hope. The Minnesota Attorney General’s Conviction Review Unit (CRU) accepted her application, giving her a case number.

“It’s been about a month now since I heard back,” Crystal said. “I just want 15 minutes with Keith Ellison. I’ll work eight hours at my job and three hours after that if I have to. Whatever it takes for my child.”

For Crystal, the fight is not only about overturning her daughter’s conviction but also about exposing what she believes is a justice system stacked against families without money or influence. She is especially critical of Dakota County, which she and others have called one of the most racially biased jurisdictions in Minnesota. She says no Black jurors were allowed on Camille’s jury: “They threw out every single one.”

Crystal vows to keep writing, keep calling and keep telling anyone who will listen.

“All we want is justice. Camille doesn’t deserve to spend the best years of her life locked away for a crime she didn’t commit.”