Krysti Lynn
Krysti Lynn's life was tragically cut short on December 3, 1995, when she died in an auto accident. She will not be forgotten.

Crash Victim Identified as Sex Film Star

Los Angeles Times (LT) - FRIDAY December 8, 1995
Edition: Valley Edition
Section: Metro Page: 5

CALABASAS - One of two women killed in a car crash earlier this week was a well-known sex film star, Los Angeles County sheriff's deputies said Thursday.

Shawna Yager, 24, of Malibu, who made more than 50 sex films under the name Krysti Lynn, was killed Sunday night when the car she was driving skidded off Las Virgenes Road while speeding at about 100 mph, Deputy Hugh Wahler said.

Yager's body and that of a friend, Stella Martinez, 33, of North Hollywood, were found Wednesday morning 100 feet below the road by a public works crew. "She was entertaining, she was compassionate. She worried about other peoples' problems," said Jeff Marton, a friend who works at Evil Angel Productions, where Yager starred in several features. "She just liked to drive too fast, at least in this case."

Although her professional name was similar, Yager was not the more famous sex film actress Ginger Lynn.

"She (Yager) was considered a very talented actress, sexually speaking," said Mark Kern, features editor of Adult Video News, an industry newspaper. "She was not so much one of the big names, but she had quite a following."

Marton said Yager began acting in sex films about three years ago, hoping to earn enough money to launch a singing career. Two weeks before her death, he said, she was in a studio recording an rhythm and blues album.


Daily News of Los Angeles (LA) - THURSDAY December 7, 1995
By: Mary Schubert, Daily News Staff Writer
Edition: Valley
Section: News
Page: N11

CALABASAS - The bodies of two women missing since Sunday were discovered by road crews Wednesday at the bottom of 150-foot ravine, in a car that sheriff's officials believe plunged off the road because the driver was speeding and intoxicated.

Shawna Krysti Yager, 24, of Malibu and Stella Juanita Martinez, 33, of North Hollywood died in the crash, which occurred between Sunday evening and Monday morning, said Sgt. Steve Glennan of the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department's Lost Hills station.

Investigators estimate that Yager was driving at twice the 50 mph speed limit along Las Virgenes Road, near Mulholland Highway, said sheriff's Detective Hugh Wahler. "They came out of a straightaway and came into some curves in the roadway," Wahler said. "They were unable to negotiate the curves at that speed. You can't make the curves in the road at 100 mph."

Both women had been wearing their seat belts and the air bags of the 1993 Acura Legend had deployed.

Yager's boyfriend, who owned the car, reported her missing Monday afternoon at the Lost Hills station, and a relative of Martinez filed a missing person's report at the Los Angeles Police Department's North Hollywood station, Wahler added.

"Their last known whereabouts was the Sagebrush Cantina in Calabasas," Glennan said. There, the women drank beer, watched a football game and socialized with friends.

County public works department road crews saw skid marks on the road about 8:20 a.m. and investigated. They spotted the wreckage amid shrubbery in the dry creek bed, and flagged down a sheriff's patrol car, Wahler said.

"Nobody would expect how far this car traveled from the time it left the roadway," Wahler added. "Those kinds of speeds are not survivable." The car, he added, toppled a 12-inch-diameter tree as it plunged down the ravine and rolled several times before it came to rest.

My Shawna
(Krysti Lynn's real first name was Shawna)
by John Stagliano
As appeared in AVN Magazine

She died as she lived, at 100 fucking miles an hour. She was "the best that ever was." I remember saying that to Tommy Lasorda when I introduced her to him at a Dodger game in the summer of '94. It wasn't something I had ever said before, it just slipped out. And after I said it I realized that that was what I felt about her. She was the best, the most of everything, the best ass, the best smile, the most sexy, and the most alive.

I loved her like no one else. I loved her and I hated her. Everything about her was bigger than life. She could get so angry so easily, so stupidly angry. You could see hate in her eyes like you wouldn't believe. And then she would love you like you wouldn't believe.

I feel uncomfortable saying this but I think I became a man because I knew her. Everything about her was a test. Could you love her good enough? Could you hate her good enough? I didn't want so much conflict with her, but you couldn't avoid it. She knew she was a "drama queen," but as with all her faults she worked so hard to be better. I tried to ride this wild horse, I tried to show her that sometimes staying calm was the best way in the face of conflict. But part of her always rebelled, the best part. The part that wanted to live life to the fullest. The part that expected the best from everyone, including herself.

She taught me how to enjoy life. When I met her I had only recently become very financially successful. I lived in this big beautiful house like I had lived in my little cottage. I had two glasses, one cup, one fork, two knives and two spoons, one big and one small. Maybe I was afraid I would lose my money. Shawna wasn't afraid. We went shopping one Saturday soon after we met and we spent a thousand dollars just on stuff a house is supposed to have. We spent nine hundred dollars more the next weekend. She would bask in whatever luxury she could arrange for herself. I would look at her apprehensively. Could we really afford this? She used to say that she knew that she changed me, that she got me to enjoy life more. She did. At the end I was more and more able to appreciate the way she enjoyed life, the way she could totally let go and not worry, and bask in the Jacuzzi, or the sauna at my house.

She was a test for me. She made me be strong. Now, in her death, she gives me my biggest test.

Our physical relationship as lovers ended about 10 months ago. I wanted out. I couldn't give her what she wanted. She was very jealous and I couldn't cut off my sexuality. My whole life, my fortune, had been built on me exploring my sexuality. I dreamt of some kind of open relationship that would allow me to pursue my sexual whims, taking advantage of my place in the world. And she dreamt of being married and having children. I couldn't give that to her then.

Ideally I would have liked her to simply move out of my house, but she took the break very hard. She started to drink, we argued very loudly. And she cried.

I really cared for her and I couldn't force her out. And always there was something coming up that we felt it was best to wait until after before she moved. But she drank everyday for what seemed a long time.

Then a little while after her birthday at the end of February, I noticed that she seemed happier. She had started working out and was seriously looking for an apartment. I woke up one morning after I had been out the night before drinking at a strip club. I saw her up early, working out and something hit me. I suggested that maybe we could do that big budget XXX film I had thought about doing where she could sing, playing the part of a nightclub performer. Her dream was to become a singer. She had a great voice, but didn't seem to be pursuing her lessons. She jumped at the idea.

All sorts of wonderful things stated to happen, all of her making. She met some people in the record business who could help us. A producer who had worked with Prince had a song of Prince's that seemed perfect for Shawna to re-record.

From the middle of May, until the day she died, she worked so hard. I was so wonderfully surprised. It seemed that she was determined to prove to me that she could work hard and succeed. Her diet, her exercise, her voice lessons, were all of top priority. And she almost completely stopped drinking.

We got the song recorded in October. The final mix was in along with the remixed dance version. She sounded great. She also was writing songs of her own which I loved, which I thought had much greater potential than the Prince song. I could see her blossoming and maturing. Her powerful sexuality was now under her control, her demanding rush through life was now almost under control… almost.

I often felt that our relationship was a little like that of a father and daughter. I was trying to teach her how to better succeed in the world. Patience was her most important lesson.

Lately, I even let myself think that we could be together again. She was always singing around the house, all day, just like when she first moved in. I would look up and see her outside in the Jacuzzi or over in another room and I felt this incredible warmth. We were growing closer together. I began to think that maybe someday I would have the courage to marry Shawna, and have children with her.

Sunday, December 3, we were in the middle of pre-production on the music video. She was hanging out at the house, working out, and playing by the pool with her friend Stella, while I watched Sunday afternoon football. I remember the sweet smile she had on her face all that day. She and Stella went to a sports bar/restaurant to meet some guy she wanted to cast in the video. She said she'd be home by 9:30 pm. At 9:00 pm, Shawna and Stella left the bar and headed home. The people at the bar said they didn't seem drunk. They said they seemed to be doing really well. Shawna was high on life.

Lately I was growing to trust her, so when she mentioned casually in some context or another that she often drove fast in the sleek car of mine that I was lending her, I didn't reprimand her like I used to. I would have yelled at her about this in the past. But I didn't. She seemed so strong and capable, and, after all, didn't I drive too fast sometimes? It was only a few days before she died that we had this conversation. I should have yelled at her and made her cry; I should have taken the car away from her. She would be alive today if I had. I backed down from her strength when she needed me the most. I'm sorry, Shawna. I failed the test.

I'm sure she was happy in those last few moments, those last few completely exhilarating moments, streaking down and open stretch of canyon road at 100 miles an hour. But those curves, those little rolling curves, she almost made it through them, almost. I love you, Shawna.

The girls were missing for two days. No one saw the car streak off the road. It flew 50 feet, then the front end hit hard ground and the girls flipped end over end, once or twice, then crashed through an 18 inch thick tree upside down and backwards, and then rolled down to the edge of the creek below, buried, upside down in brush.

Four days before she died she was flying back from a visit to a lover on the East coast. As she flew over the Grand Canyon she wrote this in her diary in her beautiful hand writing:

"… I know deep in my heart this is a big year for my career… I pray my project blossoms as I've dreamt. I pray I have the strength and endurance to physically be my best… I went to D.C. to see if I've grown up. I have. I respect and deeply value love and even though I cannot be with my love now, I have faith that someday God will bring us together… I've learned enough to know that 'love' doesn't fill all voids and a person must achieve their goals. Love is the nuts and cherry on the sundae! Good luck, Shawna. Be strong!

Oh and the snow on the trees in November is beautiful. And the burnt orange trees and the crisp air… One never knows where life is going."

# # #