When William Minor stopped at a Midlothian Auto Zone in October, he didn’t expect to meet the man who helped save his life after a near-fatal crash more than two decades ago.

Minor — a respiratory therapist who was severely injured in a 2002 car crash near Hopkins and Old Warwick roads, caused by what he now describes as “youth and ignorance” — assumed the visit would be unremarkable until the moment his name was recognized at checkout. 

The name on his credit card was familiar to Tony Williams, a part-time employee who had checked Minor’s pulse and called for help after the wreck, and who realized during the transaction that he was face to face with the man he once assisted. 

“I’m not a real feely person,” said Minor, who was not aware of Williams’ involvement until that moment in the store. “But as soon as he told me, I just hugged him.” 

For both men, who never reconnected after the crash, the chance reunion was a moment of joy and celebration that has grown in the weeks since into a strong kinship between the two and a growing relationship between their families. 

“It was a joyful moment for me, you know what I mean?” said Williams, who still remembers the sight of the car flipping over and Minor’s body being thrown from the vehicle on a clear December evening. “This man is my brother, this man is my brother for life.” 

Williams, who was in the area when Minor’s crash occurred, said he felt guided by “God’s intuition” to help, and both men said they see a sense of divine blessing in the wreck and in their reunion 20 years later. 

“I just think it’s amazing,” Minor said, speaking Sunday afternoon alongside Williams and their families at Minor’s mother’s home in Midlothian, just a few miles from the AutoZone where Williams works. “You don’t ever expect to go to a store and find a brother.” 

Williams’ actions were crucial to Minor’s survival, according to him and his mother, Shirlene Douglas Staves. Doctors said he was at risk of severe brain damage without immediate help, and he could have emerged from the crash a very different person. 

Instead, Minor was able to rebuild his life after surgery for shoulder, knee and head injuries, a month recovering in the hospital, physical therapy at Sheltering Arms and months at his mother’s house that included reading and writing practice sessions. 

Obstacles prevented Minor and Williams from reconnecting before 2025. Williams had tried to find out if Minor had recovered but was stymied by the commonness of his name. 

Minor had been in a coma due to his injuries, waking up later with a gap in his memory of the wreck. He was also the only person in his car during the crash, leaving him and his family unaware of Williams’ assistance. 

“We had no idea somebody else was involved,” Staves said. “We are very, very thankful for this man.” 

Minor sees the wreck as a critical turning point, leading him to change his life for the better. 

“I’m in a much better place, spiritually, physically, emotionally,” he said. “Had I stayed where I was, I wouldn’t be the person that I am today, and I could very well not be here.” 

Minor married his wife, Tracy, in 2006. Their second daughter, Veronica, was born in 2009. Years later, what began as a small, thoughtful gesture — checking their older daughter Olivia’s car to make sure it had enough oil for a trip — turned into a memorable moment for the family. 

“We had never really heard the full story of the accident,” Olivia said, sitting with her sister across from Williams and his wife, Cynthia. “To hear that somebody stopped to call 911 to help him, we are so appreciative because our dad wouldn’t have been here, and so we can’t thank you enough.” 

For Williams, the reunion is a reminder of what he believes all people should do for one another. He and Minor hope others are inspired by his example and the stories of the two families. 

“It’s an honor and a blessing to be put in situations where we can help one another,” Williams said. “I feel like that’s what we’re supposed to do. It doesn’t have anything to do with race, color or anything like that. We are all supposed to be here to help each other.”

Olivia Minor looks over old photos of the car her father, William Minor, was driving when he survived a life-threatening crash decades ago. (Julianne Tripp Hillian/Richmond Free Press )